Preverbal

by Kim Triedman

Imagine the sun as it was, yesterday –
and the dog
barking

down a long and windy afternoon. Hours

extrapolate like bold ideas,
like nerves

branching,
and shadows stretching
taut
toward the cusp

of what will be. There is a
music you can hear
in a room

you never knew existed. Listen

to the dog.
Trip your fingers
down the ladder
of the sun
between the leaves. Close

your eyes—the wind is
talking up a storm.


*Kim's homepage: http://www.kimtriedman.net/