Adagio

‘Moving now toward the vicinity of hurting,
now toward the vicinity of imagining.’
                     (Elaine Scarry, The Body in Pain)

Where the lapwings had stood was now
empty and the valley sunk beneath

the light shifting of sun. You clung on
inside the notes as they swayed

between horn and oboe.
This avulsion was the body’s argument.

You were somewhere between a field
and a memory. The score was still playing

as you ventured towards where the words
would fuse into you: integument, heart.


Intermezzo

You’ve played this before but each time
...