This happens in Schubert
And elsewhere,
Iowa, for example.
There is something incomplete that lingers,
Trails off
And a pause —
That lengthens
And goes on — and on.
Strand by strand,
The rope breaks.
The fingertips cannot remember
The last thing they touched.
The boat pulls away from the dock —
The old confusion
Between forgetting and loss.
Then a series of notes played more slowly,
Softer,
Echoing — remotely, precisely —
The previous phrase,
Almost a melody,
On the edge —
A very slow waterfall
Suggesting completeness,
Gifts
Exchanged
In the interstices of the stars.
Robert Rehder
Friday, August 26, 2011
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