Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
What do you want for it? You asked. He looked at you then at the box of old 78s of Beethoven's violin concerto then looked at you: what you got? He asked. I have an old Bible some old family thing, got names in the front, you said. He raised eyebrows. Guess I could swap these 78s aren't my cup of tea. Ok I'll bring it tomorrow, you said. Deal done. 78s for a Bible. It felt heavy in his thin hands, and he opened it and saw the names written in that faded black ink. You played the old 78s, pouring over the sound emitted from the record player, wondering what he made of the Bible, the ancient print, those old names scribed there. Beethoven hung in the air.
0
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
THE SWOP 1969.
What do you want for it? You asked. He looked at you then at the box of old 78s of Beethoven's violin concerto then looked at you: what you got? He asked. I have an old Bible some old family thing, got names in the front, you said. He raised eyebrows. Guess I could swap these 78s aren't my cup of tea. Ok I'll bring it tomorrow, you said. Deal done. 78s for a Bible. It felt heavy in his thin hands, and he opened it and saw the names written in that faded black ink. You played the old 78s, pouring over the sound emitted from the record player, wondering what he made of the Bible, the ancient print, those old names scribed there. Beethoven hung in the air.
A SWOP OF GOODS IN 1969
TerryCollett
Written by
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem