Pineboard walls warm to touch, a June
storm coding itself into the metal siding
on evenings we go to bed early. You,
my soul's friend, undress for night
with the relief that means we're alone now,
free as long as darkness lasts.
I can tell
we’ve met the music place,
stillness at the center of spinning,
all the gravities of our lives
Hear the rain rewrite the score in andante,
how the air says lento, lento, there's a bow
for every cello — and thus you are to me.
The long note buzzing low, gold
cutting through a crescendo sky, your shoulders,
your ribs, a piano inside.about the author