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Chamber Music


ISSUE:  Winter 2016

Woodwind

This morning your mouth
Was all I could think about 

 

Fiddle

Like a violin you leave
The sweetest 

Bruise just beneath
My chin.

 

Upright Bass

Love that place
Where your hip hits

Your waist
& my head fits

Perfect, rests 
Like music

 

Slide Trombone

All day that scent
In the crook

Of your neck
Distracts

 

Horns

Woke early, the light
Blues all in my bed

Where I wish
You warmed instead.

 

Rhythm Section

Without you the room
Grown small—

Only then can I see
How each night we rocked

A steady groove
Where the headboard

Hugged the wall.

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