Saturday, April 4, 2015

She Wants to Sing (poem by Lisa J. Cihlar)



I would play a love song
on all my instruments.
A Tibetan singing bowl,
an African Thumb piano,
a didgeridoo, a rainstick.
I would beat a drum
that calls in ruffed grouse
to prove that I can do it.
But my hands are wheelchair
hands now. Stuck in curves,
callused, dry, sore. I can still
play your body with my mouth.

I would write a haiku and place
it in the middle:

It is sweet and orange
Eating a fall persimmon
Here, it is my heart

I have never tasted a real persimmon. In pictures,
they are heart-shaped.
They must be poems. Fruit
and flowers always are,
as is the woman found dead
in the snow in Milwaukee
and brought back to life.
Does she knows something
new now about the world?
Or will she go back
to the bar to drink
tequila sunrises which remind her
of warm islands.

She joins a church choir and sings
through the rest of winter.
I would surprise you with
all the things I have to say.

Lisa J. Cihlar is the author of two chapbooks, The Insomniac’s House (dancing girl press, 2011) and This is How She Fails (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2012). Her poems have appeared in The South Dakota Review, Green Mountains Review, In Posse Review, Bluestem, and The Prose-Poem Project.

Photo by Karen M. Byerly ##

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