'the mute'

Seething, tongueless, brother
Always cold, brother
Play your sad organ song, brother
One note at a time
Your fingers on those keys keep me alive

Grieving songs for Sunday morning
Knock me flat on my back
And with headphones secured
I watch his sacred requiem song
Moan around the turntable
Deepening the grooves that channel
Between our
Brother’s and mine
Acidic blue-blood

And when this record ends, it gently goes to static
Lulling me to sleep with sweet vinyl hiccups

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