In the space where the music is
and now isn’t
is where I’m keeping you,
in that buzzing hush,
that anticipation that proceeds what happens next
lifting itself from the velvet
of what has already come,
This is the transformation of a love.
This is a young woman pulling her glasses
up when she reads,
just on top of her head
and in that simple movement
revealing herself as something changed,
something that the man next to her hadn’t seen till just then,
something that crystallizes and sits within him,
tucked just under his tongue.
You will fill that space,
that in between space,
so that I can move you, like a chess piece
from the past of my life
to the future.
I can carry you with me,
because at this point,
I can’t leave you behind
with the last song.
No, instead you will be that moment
when the violinist rest his arm,
the bow sliding one last time over the string
the note held shimmering
for a millisecond, like a bird wobbling
her wings, two flecks of white holding her up
against all that startling blue.
In the impossible miracle of temperament,
that’s where I’ll carry you.
And you will not be lonely there.
16 hours ago