Duet for Piano and Poem
Anna Rosen Guercio
A certain opacity to her eyes
as they say,
“small forms.”
And I know something about these
hands on keys as if love's neck, makes mine ache,
and about this music sutured like the dreams we tell
ourselves before falling, sleep.
Whose idea of night and what paltry resistance
are these, my quiet, my small forms.
Hers a song to accompany image,
a dialogue as repertoire.
And mine, small sounding place for:
“There is nothing natural can quiet its feet in fall.”
Anna Rosen Guercio is a translator and poet living in Los Angeles. Her work has recently appeared in or is forthcoming from The Kenyon Review Online, Pool, The St Petersburg Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, inter|rupture, Prime Number, Eleven Eleven, Faultline, Entasis, and Words Without Borders. She is the translator of José Eugenio Sánchez's Suite Prelude a/H1N1, published by Toad Press. She holds an MFA from the University of Iowa and is currently a doctoral candidate at the University of California, Irvine.
