Poem from:

Ghostlight - New & Selected Poems by Mark Granier

More Details

Vulture Bone Flute

Granier, Mark

— 38,000 BC

Fitting to see the oldest airs 
salvaged from a raptor — the air
of its wing — and there is music 

in our bodies, drums and strings,
wind instruments fulfilling themselves
so blood and sweat sings

to surfaces, half-blinding those eyes
lost in the swing of a scythe,
a notched sword, the haulage

of hominid arms through foliage —
music that runs like sap 
back to the root

of our species jogging on the spot
wired to an iPhone — chants, field hollers,
deafening wars, silences — the body

bearing the mind away 
with riffs, keys, tones, variations 
on what’s in us and what will come

to blow through our bones.

Copyright © Mark Granier 2017

Please turn on speakers
Download this MP3

Salmon Poetry Home Page The Arts Council Salmon Poetry Home Page The Arts Council