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Thursday, April 3, 2014 12:01 am

musicpoem, sort of #1

 musicpoem, sort of #1

when we were kids we took our music
lessons in madison every saturday at
the wisconsin school of music a big old
house with sound pouring out of every
fissure from squeaks squawks scales to
csardas and the goldberg variations
when you entered the house you faced
a fireplace never any fire but on the
mantle a ceramic dish shaped like the
palms of two cupped hands ready to
offer you candy or some sort of goodie
or conversely to receive something
never anything in it one saturday my
sister patty put a little sign above the
dish: “Help P.D.” when she came back
the next week it held a dollar and forty
three cents in change pat kept the cash
after all it said help P.D. and she was
P.D. we all marveled who would give to
P.D. not knowing who or what P.D. was
it must’ve been those expectant hands
or maybe the cacophony of all that music

©2014 Jacqueline Jackson

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