What does a singer do when she loses her voice?

VOICELESS NO LONGER

About my age, the thin man-about-town in front
At the deli, ordered first, his index finger wiggling:
“Sliced pastrami and corned beef and provolone.”
The brunette clerk bent to her task. He glanced back at me.


I ordered a smoked turkey sandwich.
The clerk, a Botticelli woman,
Big round brown eyes and smooth white skin,
Whispered, “Sorry, I’ve lost my voice.”


The svelte man next to me,
By way of flirting, joked,
“Good thing she’s not a
Telemarketer!” He reached out,
Poked me on the shoulder.


The clerk winced, and I, sensing
More than I knew, gave no response,
Stood resolutely, mutely,
But smiled politely, surveyed the food.


Mr. Cosmopolitan explained as if
We were all a little dense, “You
See, she’d really need her voice then.”
He chuckled and winked. I grounded,
Plugged myself into the solid floor.


She folded and sliced the bread for me,
Filled the core with lettuce, tomato, cheese, meat,
Seasoned it, wrapped it, brought it to me
As lovingly as if she had been my mother.


The slick man gave up and slid away.
The clerk whispered, “I was alto-soprano. But
I’ve got to make a living.” Her eyes
Were soft, moist orbs; her lips, lush.


I said, “Will your voice come back?”
“No, but I’ve taken up the viola.”
“Oh, so you’ve found another voice.”
She smiled. “It’s music, and that’s
What I love. I’m still in music.”


I looked around for the skinny dude, but
He had skedaddled without knowing
That in the deli, a diva
Had served us an aria,
Had opened up worlds for us,
Like any true artist.

2007

"Voiceless No Longer"  was included in the unpublished poetry collection Operose Hierodule of the Muse, 2008.  I love the serendipitous moment when life presents us with some meaning in our everyday tasks.  Below are some CDs and books related to this blog.