The Sand Hill Review http://www.sandhillreview.org
2005
Play Me a Song
not
the one
that
just noodles along
in
familiar riffs
in
the present tense
(nothing
gone, nothing coming)
key
changes that never
broke
a heart
enough
of that
play
notes that walk
like
there’s someplace to go
and
notes that know
(you
have two hands)
when
there’s nowhere
sing
now, only now
to
those who won’t die
but
sing me
the
endings
not
that I mind
seeing
of the stranger
only
his shadow
his
moonlight shadow
I
know the rest
but
Time’s knife
is
for cutting
show
me the fruits
limbs
(even
their
memories)
scooped
up and trashed
spill
them
from
the left hand
empty
the dream
of
home and plenty
and
olive-strewn shade
wake
me up sobbing
in
the right hand
play
something nice
like
that robin
a
child was whistling
sagging
in her steps
all
the hot walk home
till
it came out right