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Sep 142014
 

by Dan Leach

 

When I was six and fearless,

I slipped off my shoe in church and watched with unchecked joy

as a cricket scuttled out.

Eyes clenched shut in faith,

nobody else could see him.

From the sweaty depths

of my size six loafer,

he soared on parchment wings

above the yawning hymnals,

beneath the mumbling lips,

and landed with such grace

on my younger brother’s khakis,

pausing only for a moment,

before drawing back his bow

and striking a single note.

So beautiful was his song

that I can still recall-

half a lifetime later-

the music of his ligaments

as it echoed off the pews

and my mother’s open mouth.