Good night and forgot the blessing

in New York City,
she sang,
with ecstasy,

a song by a Southern boy
who grew up
near me.

loosely strumming an acoustic guitar,
a hint of Soul and honey
in her voice,

she usually tried to sing
like a diva
and it was good, if mannered,

but this Country twist to her City sound
made her
finally believable

and when she was done,
awkward wordsmith me...

left dumb

when I should have been worshiping
instead of silently sinking, thinking-

some artists have no sense of themselves,
some people lose themselves in artifice,
some art is worthwhile because it destroys,
sometimes time is suspended as truth unfolds.



the tick tock between us became unbearable
but this moment floats,
warm as fresh blood,
as I glance backward
and let go.