I considered the shadow against the outline,
the grey powder fallen into cracks
in sidewalks, frosting every windshield
across town: I was told a mountain
had spoken, so we would never
breathe the same again.
There are nouns
whose formality I miss.
For instance: exhalation
instead of exhale. Just another
slight squeeze out of the lung’s accordion.
How can I convince you it isn’t so hard?
Sadness is possibly an upright piano
we no longer own. We pulled sheet music
out of the bench and sang after dinner.
I learned to improvise when I couldn’t
make sense of chords— I am sorry
even if I know it wasn’t my fault.