i.
the notes of her song
echo across
so much empty air
between us
(and maybe you’ll
say it’s just a vibration
of molecules
moving this way
or that)
but what i feel
are invisible fingers
strumming silver strings
deep within,
gently shocking cords
long dormant
from lack of use
or perhaps simply forgotten
like some priceless
stradivarius left
in the corner
collecting
dust.
ii.
as tears stream
down these stubbled cheeks
i recall
the words of my father
who taught me long ago
that boys don’t cry
(as if our
collective humanity
comes at a much steeper
price for holding
this needless
show of strength).
iii.
with an angelic face
she finishes her song
(which lifts me up)
and what bubbles
to the surface
is a secret longing for a home
i’ve never seen
so far removed from
this place,
and if you’ll pardon
this momentary lapse
of weakness
don’t take it personally
when i confess
how i’d rather be planted
there than lost
in this space.
