
your form rocks Hasidic
keys the color of snow, coal
a frozen layer over the river
the blooming and the beating
things just a theory I believe in
and I reject; Did you think
I would forget
you
your accoutrements
the black kettle ringing on time
the heavy sigh of the labrador
as he sinks to the floor
licking cold tile like a Popsicle
your face lost in the white
snowflakes sifting tonight
the sting in my eyes
tiny blades of ice
driven by winter, shush
the never-never
plunk of the chords
sheets of Liszt, Chopin
blown down, the sour note
of the pewter sugar bowl
emptied; cold traces
like stars cross
the baby grand
By Reka Jellema & Jennifer Savage
Copyright February 2015