the soprano on the corner of m street
huddles beneath the flickering spotlight
of a street lamp and shivers in the snow.
singing ordinary symphonies for
her supper, she extends a worn, velvet hat
to collect crumpled applause and spare change.
as gray-faced commuters hurry past,
she tunes the traffic lights, their erratic tempo,
to the city's chorus of curses and car horns.
muffled beneath the cacophony of other lives,
stale operas where every character's the lead,
her sudden absence on the street corner
goes unmourned by passers-by, but all at once,
its music muted, its rhythm ruptured,
the delicate chords of the universe fall flat.
a/n: into every life, a little silence must fall. june 8th, 2010.