Member Poem

Song Interrupted
 
A small county fair in late summer.
Eager to close up, the barkers stood idly by their games of chance,
Bored, annoyed, smoking roll-your-owns.
My brother walking alongside elbowed me suddenly,
Pointing at the booth down the way,
Laughing at the misspelled banner:
Record yurself on tape. 500 song choces. Only 10 bucks!
He bet me I wouldn't, knowing that’s all it would take.
On this languid August evening, both of us stalled
In a dead-end town where we grew.
It seemed right somehow to pay my money,
To take my seat in the cramped dark booth
Tilting the mike toward me just so, clearing my throat
Making the moment count, for my lost brother,

 
Bette Midler was my choice, an over the top tune,
All unapologetic sentiment, befitting the sad purple dusk.
The music started, violins paving my way,
And I began.
It must have been cold there in my shadow...
The melody and lyrics recollected as easily as my name,
Until halfway through
In that stifling space in the middle of nowhere
My voice caught on a line and faltered.
You always walked a step behind.
It caught halfway through in my throat because
It had become a song for my mother,
Whose dreams never took flight.
Who helped others become airborne.
My mother, still looking upward,
Until every trace of light had left the sky.