You scrape nerveless scales of the day
with fingertips hardened
by the concave pedestals
you tap into verse.

You massage the keyboard
of my tired brain
coaxing from it
this trickle.

For what started as a tickle
in the back of my throat
turned at first to a croak
now into silence.

Even laryngitis fails
the joining of my voice and yours
at midnight leaping
beyond the dark.

08/26/2007

Author's Note: For my pathetic.org friends for writing and listening.

Posted on 08/27/2007
Copyright © 2025 Glenn Currier