One Poem
by Reuben Gelley Newman
Choir of Strings
I walk along the choir
of strings that is my heart,
your hands pressed
to the keys. Strings stretched
like a silkworm’s thread:
steel whisper, octave buzz.
I do not know whether I am speaking
of the heart or the mind.
My harpsichord heart:
her nasal breath,
my heartmouth,
nose of my mind,
reside with me here,
in the larynx of the line.
Reuben Gelley Newman's debut chapbook, Feedback Harmonies, is out from Seven Kitchens Press. He circulates in New York City, and recent or forthcoming poems appear in Lana Turner, Second Factory, South Dakota Review, Only Poems, and mercury firs. Find him on his website or on social media: @joustingsnail