1st place winner of the Streetlight 2015 Poetry Contest.
Hum
Out of the blue,
he gave her a recording.
She thought there was something
wrong with it, but they had only
slept together once,
she wasn’t even divorced
yet: she didn’t know how
these things worked.Do you tell someone there is something wrong
with what they’ve given you?
She didn’t know Glenn Gould
how he hummed
what was in his head as he played.Maybe the recording
wasn’t very good or
she was not listening
well. She couldn’t really tell
much but that there was something else
happening
behind the Bach. Like yesterday.
mist swept across the lake and
she thought she saw a swan
but then it wasn’t there.Or last week at the park party,
the creek in a torrent,
memories of September’s
flood. There was a cake
with a violin on it,
a rice-paper page of Partita II,
the two halvesof her son’s family smiling
and speaking
in the shelter. Stepmother not
aggrieved, the graduates flirting,
making pirouettesand postures. Like in Breughel,
Icarus unnoticed: a little girl had been washed
from an overturned
truck up the mountain,
had passed them,
drowning down the river.There were sirens
but she had not known why.
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