Girl Singer

She nods her head.
Smiles real deep down.
The steel guitar yawns open,
accompanied by fiddle, banjo, bass.
She shakes her head from side-to-side,
taps one foot slowly.
The fiddle screeches like an eagle,
descending slowly toward the stage,
toward the cold of Cambridge,
out of the rain.

People push together
at the edge of the speakers
along the bar
watching her head nod
watching her head shake slowly.

A single note first:
distinct, not lost among the harmonies,
like swallowed heaven it feels so good.
A release of sorts
pulled directly out of the earth.

She really loved somebody once
watched him walk away
heard his footsteps fade
buried the silence in her heart to call upon:

an emotional deposit
withdrawn on stage
when it is raining outside
and the people are dense
standing elbow-to-elbow
watching her head nod
expecting something special.

Published in Illya’s Honey, Spring 2003


~ by danielwrasmus on April 24, 2010.

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