This was written for my voice teacher, Donna Underhill, and published in the Pierian Spring Winter issue, 1969.
KEEPING POSTED
In this book of fifty art songs
there is one you used to sing
about the morning flowers.
The song has your markings--
to sustain, and pause,
linger and fly to the high head tones,
to murmur, hum, and swell.
You made much of the words
I remember, singing the phrases
which you spun into my ears
with the incessant magical touch
that made me feel anointed,
knighted, brought from the grave.
A friend has written me,
gossipy items mostly, about everyone,
and news of what has happened to you.
Reading her letter I wept,
wanting to take all the flower fields
your voice had ever hurled into my mind
and throw them half around the world
to splash you with their perfume
and my tears.
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