His Song | Rachelle Sorger

Broken pieces
of a cold winter
lie jagged
beneathe me.

I ache,
like rust
on a summer gown.

Sometimes he walks.

With me he falls.

He says I broke him
the day
I told him
he couldn't sing.

It's funny how I don't remember anything
except the beauty
in his voice.


Taken from the 1999 issue of The Wire Harp.