Old Business

The refrain shrills,

pierces the pressed hush,

stammers into her ear that song

she’d shushed (feigned, it seems) —

the black/white lyrics

boxed behind her tongue

tuning acid to base.

She sees him

(all tinkly notes and melody)

hissing dismissive arias

at her gawking.

The chords fight forward,

tenor particle-pain,

metronome her eyelids

to a black boot march

as he raises his arm.