the story so far

Footsteps always echo
loudest on a stage, facing
a full and quiet crowd.

Harrison always said eat
a banana, run up the stairs;
one to calm, one to rile

the heart. The anxious organ
can't seem to tell between
a workout and the icy

choir of each step, smooth
neck of the cello in my hand.
What they don't tell you

is the lights are blinding: a bright
curtain, deep and wide as the sky.
My god, birds don't fly. They drown

again and again until all they know
is the floundering act, all they feel
is the fullness beneath them.