The swine
show will go on
despite threats of harsh flu.
But she prefers urban rabbits
in parks.
There Are No Wrong Pianos, Vic
Public pianos everywhere—
on the airport baggage
claim level, outside the convention
center entrance, inside the city
center second floor lobby. Where’s the one
to play in open air
in the park under an old elm
near the dandelion
fountain? Not there yet.
Poem
I am a picture
book that dissects
and defies
time. Am also a letter
from one soul
to another written
on an old wooden fence.
It Could Happen
One person’s tomorrow
is another’s yesterday. I could
be another Janus
unable to decide. But
I’d rather be
the seam where it all spills
into now.
Scented Cinquain
Smoke cleared,
the time has come
for her to claim her own
signature fragrance—a rose at
midnight.
Aerial Myopic
From this perch high
above the traffic, she can see
you’ll never slow
down to make her
exit, to even read
the sign. Her number
is not your number. Her flirtation
with naming
tools—not yours. But
then again
she’s nearsighted. And you are
long distance.
Hey, Luthier!
Can you hear me
over the sound of a fret
hammer? I know
you’re not looking—I can
say anything.
No one’s going to get embarrassed.
Not even my future
self in her quiet
attention to every detail
you create.
33 Years
Remnants of an unnamed
storm still smashing
against the Long Beach Island shoreline. Reception still
good. Saturday Night Live
rerun in full ridiculous swing.
Who’s the host? Who remembers?
Two bodies
entwined as if the rest
of the world’s become a silent movie
during intermission. Her first—not
his. Memory captured and recorded. The world resumes
its 1979 footage.
Father Cinquain
I’ve been
afraid to live
in a world without you.
Words gone under bridges, music
remains.
How Close Are You to the Shore?
Can you walk barefoot through dune
grass at high
tide and predict how many purple
mussel shells
will be uncovered
next? I wonder if this image of you
I’ve constructed
from ash bark and river glass
could come close
to dampening your bare skin.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 