Yellow plums with sweet
flesh and sour skin
bleed down chins and smell
of summer swims and sneezes.

Once upon a time, a girl.

The grass seed and tree pollen
and dust and pet dander
and prickly pinecones and banjo strings
and the transition between analog and synthetic,
between automatic and didactic.

Ears perk like dogs at impossible pitches
upon a hidden harmony, missed melodic movement
she stops mid-sentence to hear, listen not hear, listen
for the sounds buried under sounds
and other sounds
and tape distortion
and old speakers
and ambient noise
and the head voices
and the wind in the leaves.

Candle flames hiss on extinguishing breaths
sighing promises for future dividends
dancing in circles on hardwood floors
skirt breezes
hip shakes until it's too much
floor shakes until it's all fallen
borrowing thumbtacks and bringing it all
bringing it all down.

Far in the distance I can hear the bells tolling, ringing not tolling, ringing
in time with the sunrise blinking, winking
sharing a knowing promise for a better day tomorrow,
today not tomorrow, today.