eine kleine nacht...[on seeing The Piano and driving home]

she broke the surface
refracted in slow motion
puffed cheeks exploding
captive shoe tethered
(her other direction)
to the seaweed bottom
her flawed obsession
suspended forever
in drear soundless depths

I called you
to ask the obvious

as she closeup clicked
her one silver finger
on the new keys
all now complete
none missing
like the disarticulation
her daughter delivered
to her vile husband
chopping fenceposts
(and then her index)
on the jungle hill

I spoke slowly
letting the words flow love
an explosion  
of overheld breath
breaking the surface
of my despair
chordae tendiniae
binding the silence

to address you as thou
not to deny you a maid
not vindictiveness
not pettiness
which drowning would cure
as would reconciliation
a paring of abnegation
like the finger that found
the satanic melody...
who cares how it was lopped
to allow the exhalation
and inflow sweet
of air at the surface
and the outcry of voice
the song of a precious child

so I called you
with my last voice