Obviously, I did not read it.
My brother did.
Her smile:
Spoken by Kevin Kleinman
It was mischievous in a way only he recognized.
She winked:
More so with her eyebrows than with her eyes.
This is broken key poetry.
Broken, he wrote;
Like the indescribable, non-delineable
Syllable
That sits on the page like jazz notes.
Key;
Like the change on the stage of the same page
Of a certain melody
That the artist spoke.
She danced:
It was subtle at first and only with her shoulder.
She leaned:
More so with her waist in a way that said, hold her.
This is broken key poetry.
Poetry because it paints a picture
Of a mood and attitude that subdued
Their hesitation.
Poetry because it inspected
A missing piece that now connected
Them back to their generation.
The night:
It made the air purple as they walked
Past trees of dark leaves rustling in the breeze.
Their words
Were relaxed in the facts of their honesty,
And so they held hands.
Silhouette skyscrapers of city lines
And lakefront horizons impossible to find
Paint a typewriter picture
Of him walking with her
While planes and a few stars glitter the skies.
This is broken key poetry.
But she makes it sound good.
Date: August 10, 2019
Words by Dan Kleinman
Date: August 10, 2016