Brahms

Clarinet Quintet in B minor

 

passages of time

like a swallow

committed within a

slow, determined dive

beautifully present at once,

somehow silently

disappears.

 

Clarinet Trio in A minor

 

I share with you the memory

of the black, tweed, pilled and rough

three dollar purchase

embroidered Victorian buttons

triple breasted

wool tailcoat with

loose threads

brushing my ankles

 

Mendelssohn

String Quintet in A minor

 

right eye opens

and a smile unravels

upon your face

like the wings of a newborn

butterfly

 

We move on to

Schubert

“Trout”

Quintet.

 

 

If a heart could explode

like a science experiment

gone entirely wrong

that was my heart,

when I saw my hair

cock-eyed,

tipsy,

uneven,

I loved them

so much.

 

Your first hair do

our first Halloween –

I was Annie

The Hard Knock Life

my God, that was our song.

 

The plastic, orange

curled

knotted wig

went in

the trash

 

You stood behind me

the brush in your hands

like a fish

on land

and you did

your best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fall leaves

green and soft in the middle

crisp,

crunchy

on the outside

like a rain stick upside down

in the breeze

 

The absolute

most gorgeous time of year

my favorite

I wait for it

and now

I do not trust

at all

the rotation of the earth

the slant of the sun.

 

I have gone almost nowhere

for

a year

missing you

with every tick

of the

clock

 

And yet

the cool air

reminds me

I can feel as if my body is shattered

at the same time

I roll in piles of decomposing earth

with my children

in laughter-

 

I am home,

the address

unfamiliar.

 

 

I  frequently wondered about this moment

as if imagining an alien abduction

I knew you couldn’t be there

but maybe.

 

The gown in the window

facing West Silver Spring Drive –

I saw myself as

Olivia

in Twelfth Night,

the dress had to

be mine.

 

My right hand shook

as if in fever

I opened the door,

“Please show me that dress in the window”

 

Alone

I slid my hands over the gown

as you see done in film

dropping the satin over my head, breasts and hips…

The seam brushed the carpet

settling,

back and forth

then still

 

Sleeves ivory and transparent

dipping at my wrists

like a pitcher,

babydoll stitching

gentle taffeta

like a quiet river

over my waist

 

Looking over my shoulder as if to see you there

I knew this was the dress

the mirrors knew

it was me, my glass of champagne and

the four surrounding

panels

of glass.