Copper Symphony

A candle shines through the doorway. My fingers still hold a smoldering wick, burning my skin like a glove. “I am home,” I say, to no one in particular – maybe the bricks need to hear it. My shadow dances opposite the flame across their mason-faces. I am a mirror to the naked world.

Above my head, behind me, there is a window. Against it beats rain softly, caressing the glass and whispering of colder weather. It is still in this room, where the candle twists. The music has stopped. My piano lies dormant and expectant. I do not think sound is necessary, here.

Flame: incessant and full of mirth. It spreads beneath the carpet and behind the walls. My body feels no heat, but the candle I see bows and rises excitedly. The air changes; charged. If I were a storm, I would have lightning for arms. Rise. Stand. My feet glow with electricity. I cannot tell you whether it is my hands or the tongues of flame that bring the piano to life, but there is music with the laughter of a fiddle.

An island forms outside the window, as the rain builds up worlds on the pavement. What wonders there are in autumn! My fingers rest; my reflection stands to make amends while I admire the candle in the other room.

The Night the Power Went Out

She spun the gold band and diamond around her ring finger,

watching it as if the words she sought were in the jewel.

I tapped my foot and extinguished a candle as the last

of the wax dripped onto the envelope she’d just given me –

the envelope from her fiancé, letting me know.

Finally letting me know that she’d never be mine.

“You know”, she said, looking up, “I’d have left him for you

and it could have been your ring, not his, on my finger.”

I placed a new candle in the melted wax of the old

and let it grow cold, and harden. I didn’t respond.

“If only you’d have asked me to, I’d have been yours.”

Lighting the new candle, I heard a gasp behind me,

where she was. Turning, I saw the tears, each like diamonds

identical to the one he gave her. “Why didn’t you ask?”

I swallowed the diamonds in my throat, put the candle down

between us and lit it, lighting the face I’d loved for years.

I could never trust a girl who’d leave one man for another,

and I told her so, and I saw her to the door and said,

“I could never trust you.” She left, and I lit candles.