The Day the Music Came Back

First night in the hospital.

A loaded playlist

on my son’s iPod.

A gift of my favorite songs.

It creates a hive of music and medicine

in five-minute cells where I huzz

through hours, remembering.

I danced when I was ten,

twirling and twisting

on a sweep of Gene Kelly feet

umbrella in hand, suddenly

my driveway a Parisian street

raindrops keep falling on my head.

I danced in high school,

walk away, walk away, I will follow

in door slams, the creaking backing open,

the goodbye and hello, told in spiked hair,

in April winds which melt the punk.

I danced club floors in college,

to a polished sheen of club floor tile,

vacant, except for our alive—

you spin me right round baby right round

art in 130 heartbeats a minute

instead of class minutia at Loyola.

I danced my babies, soon

around the house on hips

singing silly songs

London Bridge is falling down

they laughed into hiccups.

Somewhere the music had stopped.

When did I forget?

I hope you dance.

I danced by the pool this morning

my dog watched, wary

from the other side.

#poetry

Recent Posts
Search By Tags
No tags yet.
  • Facebook Basic Square
  • Twitter Basic Square
  • Google+ Basic Square

FOLLOW Folia

  • Facebook Classic
  • Twitter Classic
  • c-youtube

Contact the Webmaster

This website and all works are © 2014 Folia.  All Rights Reserved.

All works remain the property of the Authors and are protected from unlawful reproduction by the copyright laws of the United States and applicable international treaties and conventions.