portion of the artwork for Lois Beebe Hayna's poem

October Music
Lois Beebe Hayna

I wish to choose which tyranny enslaves me.

Thin music crisps like leaves
along the walk, rasps
like the final cricket. I begin to dance
holding the red satin shoes
that donít fit any more.

Folk and fairy tales warned, they all
warned, and he said
his love couldn’t wait.
My dancing could. I tissued
the red shoes away while April’s lilt
crescendoed.

Rescued by their concerns to quiet
pleasures, I burned
to leap like flame. I walked
sensibly in sensible shoes,
restraining my ache
to leap the ribboned distance.

What shoes he wore he shifted
as moods shifted, moving him
to paths forbidden me.

Beyond October’s ragged sounds
I hear Decemberís void.
Cradling my red shoes, I begin to dance
stiff but ecstatic, dance
to the scraped and tuneless
music of October before
silence whitens in.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 30 | Fall 2010