In The Wings



twenty-four years ago, your dress

was an unarticulated dream in the back

of a southern cotton field's mind


thirteen months back, your glasses

were molten in some Taiwanese furnace


forty and some odd years ago

this table subsisted on more

than memories of forest


fifty years ago, our Best of Bach CD

could be heard grinding its teeth

between the splutters of a vinyl LP


about 150 years before that

the chastening shudder that is Gounod's "Ave Maria"

first thrilled in some soprano's larynx

only dimly anticipating polycarbonate


3.5 billion years back, the chemical mix

that is this Cabernet Franc understudied

the fermentation of life in some nameless sea


and twenty-some years ago, love, 

I was waiting in the wings of mother's marrow

dimly anticipating your dress



                                                                                                                                                     / Jesse Patrick Ferguson, Harmonics