Wave
1 Minute Read Time
The voice on the radio says, I do not know music,
but I know what I like. Or was it, I like what I know.
Either way I understand. Though it seems that must be half
a man talking, the other half the radio we talk over,
and a friend drops by to say this morning he put his cat
to sleep, and I say I know what that is like, and half
the talk is bread that must be broken, the other the long
solitude you hear in an empty church. My friend says
he told his cat he was sorry to see her go, and the cat replied,
But I am here. And as we talk, the radio wonders,
What is the use of me. Is there something in the music
of questions that pulls us from bed and out the door.
Something in song’s continuous farewell that whispers,
I am sorry. And the upward eye’s reply, But I am here.
Read more from Issue 17.2.
