When her pert lips whispered, “Excuse me, please!”
My recitation stopped to grant her ease.
The splatter behind the private screen
Recalled not Brahms, but music less serene:
Notes of close cares in rapt relief falling
Like a fountain’s sudden stormy squalling.
Do my poems fly in such steady might
As her waters’ music in full flight?
And like the last mistings of her being
Announce composure, soft shivers fleeing?
Yet in my shyness and embarrassment
She hovers hidden—poems’ revenant
Behind “Chamber Music”—title for all
To commemorate her urgent nature’s call.