The Rhetorical Power of Cheap Music
Yes, it is bad, but
it orders the world,
floods the landscape
with one undiluted
emotion, until the fields
throb. Until the rhythm
of passing telephone poles
rhyme with it.
Listen to the way
Beethoven or Coltrane
make the trumpet vine
sing its color,
expand complexity
until every blade of grass
is opera.
But Gladys Knight and the Pips
or Billy Joel
impose little plastic grids,
an order that admits
of no love not fiery or faithless.
" . . . just the way you are."
What it lacks in scope
it makes up for
in singularity of purpose
"I'm a gonna get that train,
Hoo ooo."
Question evaporates
into one July afternoon
sure as heat
and youth
and just as fleeting.
"I'm leavin'."
Six days.
This sky methane flame.
This road ashy coal.
One cigarette butt
flicked
through a driver's side
window.
The whole week ignites
What Loving a Sailor Taught Me: An Inventory
Nautical terminology.
The poignancy of promontories that look to sea.
The ancient calming effect of oil on rough waters.
The meaning of the word "stanchion."
That I am an idiot.
That the letter J in ship-to-ship communication used to mean:
"I am on fire and have dangerous cargo aboard:
Keep well clear of me."
All the words to four songs and one sea chanty.
The turk's head, sheepshank, sheet bend, and true lover's.
That I am a goddamned idiot
And a fool.
To locate Cassiopeia between Andromeda and Cepheus.
To steer between the channel markers.
The meaning of the word "inconsolable."
Stay away
until the constellations forget
their slow turns.
Until there's no moon
or owl's wings to slice
its silent light over scrub pine.
Until a whole day passes
in which I do not think of you.
Disappear
until a spring comes
without dragonflies over ponds
or bright monarchs.
No carousel horse carries
a child in giddy circles.
The sea hardens into a mountain
and we climb.
Vanish
from my sight
into my heart.
And I will look for you
only
there.
--Anne Agnes Colwell