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Sweet Polyphony

by Adam Bjelland


Perhaps born from two notes of music,

The offspring of a bright, yellow A

          and a melancholy E,

She comes to me in a new song,

Or appears suddenly in the arrangement

Of a classic composition, where she’d

          never resounded before.


Long after I’ve forgotten her face

And atoned for my digressions,

I hear her in intervals and I’m

Stricken with a sharp chord of consonance.


Perhaps the mortal incestuous incantation

Of Apollo and Terpsichore,

She holds the key, haunting me in measures.

Her contours entrance me, and with

Staccato half-steps I always walk back

To her for reprise.


Two voices—

          Harmonically codependent,

          Yet rhythmically sovereign.


If I were deaf, maybe I could forget her

Adam Bjelland is an English teacher from Long Island. His fiction has been published in The Offbeat, Microtext Anthology 3 by Medusa's Laugh Press, Word Riot, and The Other Stories. He is also the winner of the inaugural Poetry Broadsides contest at Thirty West Publishing. 


February 2018

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