Symmetrical Arizona

The Ribbons of the Bell

Slipped her stockings straight

And fluttered to the choir below

And tied herself to the countertenor

Leftmost in the frontmost row.

I saw her path before she even fell

And that is why I stood beneath the bell

And from the bottom up,

Its details stark and doubted

Ignite an uproar in stained-glass

And sound the trumpets of vanity

With knowledge of a monument erased

I'm the woodpecker on the chimney

Digging at the wrong stone

But blithely shaking off an ordinary brown

Those faded feathers somersaulting low across the road