Evening Poetry, May 6

Striking Chords

by Allison Adele Hedge Coke

French braiding her hair for the first time,

my place in Cundiyo, up on Rio Santa Cruz,

so far into our thirties our favs were classic past,

we glimpsed into sistering like four-year-olds

wondering what else was lost to us, our world

augmented with pianist’s blues.

Mom hammering peddles, ivories, hard

melodies punctuating some strange prelude.

Coffee and cigarettes, her basic falter

as she tickled peculiar parallels between

ceilings, curiosities, tumbled up-

side down with illogical clues.

Kept us held there, caught up in wonder

for something unreal, unseen, she knew.

When wanderlust set in, we left one another,

striking wide world, each alone, unproven tunes,

harbor melancholy underneath long

hair left loose to pull us through.

Now gathering chords,

arpeggio, we two.

You can find this poem in Streaming.