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A weekly video reading of poetry by the poet.
May 21, 2008
by Steven Schmidt
Memory seems random.
Red garage-sale spinet, garish tone.
Working on a canon in maqam lami
that never fit together.
Then Jean sat to my left.
I scanned the Beethoven she read,
watched her forearms brace firm arpeggios.
One year ago, we last made love.
Jean came home on hospice
with fentanyl patches and lofty pills,
nausea almost under control;
After a week, refused ativan
and could grow memories again,
write poems;
Said "We could do something, y'know."
And, for a month, we did:
Spacious melisma,
Moderato e espressivo--
ritenuto--turn up the oxygen--
Adagio sostenuto--
Ripe love, fresh tang.