She was the same—wide-eyed at Yeats,
her own mystical musician. She thought
too about the depth of this ability
to go above and beyond in inquiry —
able to bring together the cruelest of fates.
I say it here now only because it is more often than not
I find a fellow musician wise enough to want to see,
yet can’t endure that confused kind of reality.

Her planned chance at life was to play like no one
Pretending to be whatever it took to hold the moment
before an eventual demise, a final untying of the knot,
the letting go of the story inside her soul that said,
“You’ve taken a chance at all this fun,
and now I want to know if it is your intent
to take it the rest of forever, because it’s all you’ve got.”
But forever was the idea of an oven inside her head.

11/11/2011

Posted on 11/11/2011
Copyright © 2024 Rob Littler