1/
He’s speaking right to me, and I have proof
the handfuls of notes connect to the tamp drum
reasonable as flight unreasonable as my stretch exercise
to guide back transposition as petaled as moonlit fragments
confirming it is all right to tepid my way through my day
of rest the wrists on piano so intimate I shore up even
gravity free of gravitas, just promise me my view of time
is rippled like pond glass better to know from distance
free of noise that conversation tiptoes on and moves
at cat speed gently toward what I think he’s thinking now
the dust of brush against a cymbal any day now warm
as this sipped broth of composition urging forward parsed
magnetic still restrained will home ever be this simple ample
grasped without reaching will we traverse the shadow
of a world supposed as muffled grace we’re sure is there
and here intended tended tendered smooth as utter sculpt
and window near the dear feeling so much space between
beautiful as a gasp as fresh as silence and what is
decided on remade and wedged between two places
that might make a road not yet redeemed
by thought of an arrival in the precious sun
.
Sheila E Murphy
.