For Amy Lowell, Patterns 1970 Poem by Gabrielle Ciarann Roniyah Baer

Intricate strings of words,
meaningless,
but pleasant to the ear,
set in careful copperplate
a schoolgirl-perfect hand.

Time escapes,
while she writes of times past,
Love slips out by a crack in the floor
while she sets down
five lines for the price of one.

Music shields her,
a bittersweet coating of sound.

Sitting alone is not enough,
Walking alone will never be enough,
again.
Voices break off in laughter
the words are not hers,
but purloined, borrowed or begged,
from the latest magician who came
to town.

(written in 1990)