Ensemble

 

Clearing out closets, I discovered

my bass part for the Trout Quintet,

margins full of your penciled

markings, a dare to make me laugh.

Our eyes met for a blip

before the violinist—

what was his name?—

cued the downbeat for

your ecstatic arpeggiated opening,

plunging us into the stream.

 

I heard you live

on an island where

orcas breach, a ferry

required to arrive

and depart, You never

visited, didn’t want to deal

with “America.”

It shamed me, my life

in a mid-sized city, a walk away

from Whole Foods, two

movie theaters, a hospital.

 

Sirens go by through the night.

I’ve learned to listen

to the slow upward glissando,

the downward portamento,

repeated with crescendo to triple

forte until I have to plug my ears

for the climax, cymbals

crash, brass at full intensity,

the Rachmaninoffs of rescue.

I think about the day

an ambulance will come

wailing my way,

about the coda and finale

you will never hear.