Look at Me

She stood near the music

both to hear and to see—

after all, Orpheus speaks

to ear and eye.

Harlem River rushed

along the ground beneath

her tapping feet.

Suddenly she turned

and heard, saw

a gravity of souls,

the familiar magnetic pull

of blue-green iris

to blue-green iris—

melding like Monet’s blossoms.

The reunion was pleasantly

shocking, surreal.

She ran her fingers

across the beauty that

was this coming together—

this parting—

then sent it soaring

with a black kiss.

It sailed above the crowd

and exploded into

blues and confetti.

Perhaps in the end

all that remains is the
music.

~Susan Adams Kauffman