Music

by Jack Miller

Your old man could really play. You think it's a shame he gave up a hot band And a fine horn when he got married. And you're not playing much guitar These days either. Morgan is eleven months old and crawling. The cupboards are tied shut. And the plants are out of reach. We watch as she crawls, then stands, And leans against the sofa with one hand. She sways with earthquake balance And a huge grin, But finally topples over, The sponge head smacking the floor. You had said she could really wind it up, And slow gasp, holding the breath, And then the dam breaks. You hold her as she cries, Then up with her over your head, Morgan airplanes over you, As you dance into another room, Both of you laughing Music.