4.21.2009

Music of the Spheres

Circles of crystal
on a small, round table.
Her eyes are imperfect:
draped in lid and lash.

The waiter orbits,
brings another bottle.

Nearly two oceans between them;
She traces music,
anxiously filling
the absence of conversation.

He does the same
and for a moment
their sounds intertwine,

growing higher and higher
till the evening ends
and they find their way
to the heavens.

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