Friday, August 14, 2020

Suppose it were Friday clxxvi: So run





             I live with the sound my body is.

             . .

             I can't forget the pure sound I heard once
             when a violin string snapped nearby
             in three o'clock's perfect silence.
             But I tell myself I'm safe. I remind myself
             of the boy who discovered order in the piano
             and ran upstairs to tell his little sister
             that they didn't have to be afraid anymore.










Jack Gilbert
The Dance Most of All
  Poems
Infectious
  [fragment]
Alfred A. Knopf, 2009©

Conor Fay




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