How can the artist
the one with the silver voice
and the endless courage, be
so quickly forsaken? Her man
leaves, the one
who wanted her money
or her fame. She tries to forget
the sound of the door
banging three times
in her face, heavy boots
stomping down the hall, resounding
on the floorboards like
a thousand bolting moose. She
tries to remember the sunlight
breaking on the water, remembers
her brothers coming home from
the war, the whole and the wounded
dancing on the streets, that “never again”...
She remembers, also, the last few
coins, the hidden letters, that one last card
and that old restlessness stirring
under layers of time, remembers
that she can still get out to the docks,
catch the next boat, step out onto the
deck and sing.
- Miriam Adelman
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