Thursday, January 30, 2014

She's Playing A Dulcimer

Long into the darkness,
this record scratching
and popping like music
used to do, we lay
back on the bed.

Instead of the
cottage cheese ceiling
that hid what,
 I could only imagine,
we would close our eyes
and see…
green fountains
with the rarest,
most precious,

 “She’s playing a dulcimer,” my sister would say.

And then…
we would
make the mistake,
of opening
our                                                                                         eyes.

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