Small Music by Lori Yamamoto

hi gentle ghosts a voice drifted from café steam it spoke hush truths too shy for bright lights thread of night wove a concert no one else hears dream bandstand plays only my heart keeps the beat we trade shy notes by breathing in the same air one hundred heartbeats per turn, a tiny rosary melody first then harmony curls like smoke rhythm settles deep as knees in cool grass D climbs, E lifts F sharp blushes, G holds my hand small step, small fall inside one borrowed second kneeling inside the hush between two pulses bossa clave taps church shoes sneak onto street tiles off-beat giggle drum-soul tugs my sleeve loose dizzy kindness shakes the dust from my ribs quiet parade only we know the route measure one hush we pinch silence like cookie dough sustain, then snip a heart-shaped note floats away tap the wood skin piano becomes a window wind wanders through old temple stones, perfectly tilted a faraway chair coughs “not a masterpiece, dear” i smile polite masterpieces are too loud this is a spark slipping through the smallest gate thank you for coins that let two shy hearts orbit vive la soft the gentlest kind of riot