9/9/10

Sunday Night
By Johanna Colbath


Half the lights burnt out,

but the stage was ours,

carpeted and ill-set,

home for an hour.

Six microphones,

we only used two—

two guitars, one bass, drums,

my voice plus you.

We rehearsed;

it had been so long,

but the melodies still matched,

as if I’d never gone.

The bass banged funk;

the guitars hummed groove,

and as the drums crashed beats,

we melted in tune.

The set was half over;

your string snapped in two—

broken by passion,

you played right on through.

I didn’t look left,

though I wanted to see

you barefoot and smiling,

rhythmic memory.


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I am a senior in the creative writing concentration, literature major at Ramapo College. Publishing is my current goal. I hope you enjoy this piece. Thank you