A Black Vinyl Faith

Vinyl faith

Sunken weary worn groove,

Midnight lacquer

A scratched nail on black moon

Its cyclops eye

Revolving stereophonic hymns

Though pressed plastic soul.

But the swelling strains

Collide into mushroom clouds

Of aria static

And the echoing fallout

Skips like a trembling saint.

I am found

By the detective

Of sound.

The warbled melodies

And stuttering crash

Are a 45 RPM

All trumpeting doom,

Gifting the silent void

With velvet tongued ruin.

Youth’s swallowed dawn

Turns ripe beyond blue,

Yet the burden of time

Still whistles our tune.

But wherever I go

May your songbirds sing too.