Marianne Szlyk


after Herbie Hancock’s “Finger Painting”


Piano notes drift

like dancing snow

along the Charles River.

Orange light

drowns out the last stars.


Concrete towers,

Harvard’s red-brick buildings,

thick hedges

conceal the city.

The notes won’t stick.


Melting on asphalt, they

turn to rain.

Drivers stop and start.

Ten years ago

Armstrong walked on the moon.


Now it’s too

far.  It’s easier

to imagine

caravans leaving town  

while snow falls.


In this world, the sky

belongs to birds

and clouds alone. Drivers

without stars

follow the river.


Marianne Szlyk lives with her husband, their two cats, and too many books and CDs — many of which are jazz — in a smallish house in the suburbs of Washington, D.C. Her poems have appeared in of/with, Mad Swirl, Red Bird Chapbook’s Weekly Read, and Resurrection of a Sunflower, an anthology of work responding to Vincent Van Gogh’s art, among numerous others. Recently her book On the Other Side of the Window, was published by Pski’s Porch, and she is also the editor of The Song Is…, a blog-zine for poems and prose inspired by music.
Read more from her:
Birch Trees in North Carolina, in Long Exposure Magazine
Yearning for Spring, in Young Ravens Literary Review

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