Larry Narron
—
rovedapple
We never needed to spear
separate
[self-correct]
the words that rovedapple
overlapped
[appeal to instructor]
as we heard them
spoken
through the tournament
[does not self-correct to firmament]
...
We did not undo
under-
[self-correct]
stand see
speech
[self-correct]
and yet it was sometimes muscle.
musical.
[appeal to instructor]
...
When it was,
we read;
agreed;
[self-correct]
we kicked.
we kicked.
[repetition]
...
We leaves
[does not correct to eaves-]
dropped
on our mother's hear-
[does not self-correct to heart-]
hurt
[pronunciation]
heart-
[self-correct]
beat, our fist
[meaning]
first
[self-correct]
variation
[does not self-correct to vibration]
felt, the holy
only
[self-correct]
concert
constant
[appeal to instructor]
we could rust
[does not self-correct to trust]
to hold as the watery
watery
[repetition]
voices went no
on
[self-correct]
grasping
[does not self-correct to gossiping]
grasping
[repetition]
gossiping
[appeal to instructor]
about the nibble.
[does not self-correct to invisible.]
the
[repetition]
visual
[does not self-correct to invisible.]
Larry Narron's poems appear or are forthcoming in Bayou, Phoebe, Hobart, Booth, SLICE, The Boiler and the Sierra Nevada Review, among others. They've been nominated for the Best of the Netand Best New Poets. Larry's first chapbook is Wasted Afterlives (Main Street Rag Publishing Company, 2020).
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