Sweet Jane's Secret Chord
  Steven Mayoff

You and I each
inch along our
separate
tightropes: fingers
finding their balance
on the same
fretboard.

At one end
of the sofa you
curled round
sleep’s major and
minor, at
the other

end me zoning
out to a rerun
of Lou
Reed demon-

strating the
hidden
chord in Sweet Jane,
the strummed
chunk
and slide

into something
half-heard half-
felt but
wholly

believed.

Our two hands (knotted
together) recon-
figure a secret
sharing, an
inner
piece of puzzledom’s
blue corner

a careful plucking, dim-
inished notes
half recalled

at some future
reprisal.

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