A Muzak fragment of Mozart’s Minuet
pumps from the gut of a smiling, snub-nosed owl
and repeats every fifteen seconds. It’s only seven,
but I jam the fat ends of my earplugs in
and watch green constellations pulse and wheel
across the ceiling.
……………………………. Just as I start to drift,
the baby’s cry returns me to the room,
mind blank with an infinity of thoughts.
I rock him underneath our nine-foot sky
while a dark form quarters the yard and scans for voles
that run along the redwood fence.
……………………………………………………. Come morning,
we’ll stroll through the live oak’s perforated shade
and find two woven clots of fur and bone.
Nicholas Friedman
Nicholas Friedman is the author of Petty Theft, winner of The New Criterion Poetry Prize. A former Wallace Stegner Fellow and Jones Lecturer at Stanford University, he is also the recipient of a Ruth Lilly Fellowship from the Poetry Foundation. He lives with his wife and son in Syracuse.
Also by Nicholas Friedman (see all)
- Black Swallow-Wort - September 21, 2022
- Gravity - September 21, 2022
- Painter of Light™ - September 21, 2022
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