Susan Chute

sparked by Sonia Sanchez’s “Under a Soprano Sky”

Last night I dreamed of meeting an old college friend, now dead
          O is the head reaching
                         reaching for thoughts tangled under dirty fingernails 

She lived in San Francisco
         O are the shoulders breathing
                        breathing, heaving, sneezing, as the middle quakes 

Another friend, unidentified, was there
         O are the eyes listening
                        listening for the crow to call my name 

On a saffron-skied Sunday, we skipped church
          O is the tongue scratching
                      scraping at the back of my teeth 

Decided to go to a downtown joint, but didn’t know the way
           O are the fingernails tasting
                        tasting flesh that peels from my legs 

That’s alright, I have my iPad and iPhone—
          O are the arms speaking
                         when I rise, bent, in the morning palette of pigment 

I pull up Google Maps
          O are the hands blowing
                         blowing over the street signs of decades 

Now the phone freezes
          O is the heart talking
                          explaining the loss of the map to being 

I know how to work this thing, no problem
          O is the stomach hearing
                           muffling the screech of bitonal song 

I try to reboot but the buttons stick
          O are the loins writing
                         writing on wrinkled skin in unconscious dark 

Siri refuses to answer
          O are the knees walking
                        waking for language sifting the soil of desire 

Ooh.