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Back to Issue 3 - Fall/Spring 2013

Night Music
by D. Parman

The old nursery clock keeps time
while my random humming
coaxes soft, comfortable sighs,
from sodden ear-piercing protests.
My daughter’s sweat-drenched curls,
snuggle deeper against my breast,
finding comfort
in the velvety smell
of freckled skin.
Tithes paid,
a cathedral silence follows.
Until once more, the distant rhythmic
whoosh-whooshing of the freeway
and the murmuring of rebellious floorboards
in the hall
sing their own fragile lullaby.