Old Lullaby
Janine Canan
In this frame I only want to listen to Bach. I am a fine poet and can only write fine poems, I am a good friend and can only love my friends, I am a good doctor, my patients can only grow more whole. I am larger than I imagined I was--we spoke of it together, our eyes large as a child's. Emotions fueling feelings that stand outside us, watch over us like clear midnight skies, the Milky Way, Greek marbles painted in color--terra-cotta arms, azure blue eyes. We live by the sea and the sky, dreaming it, drinking it, singing it as an old lullaby, telling it as a bedtime story, the last words on our lips before we die. We wait for it. We wade in it--so clear--over these pebbles into the sand.
