Berlioz’s ‘Les Troyens’
in the background
who will be Cassandre
heralding the coming
of something wicked?


out front
the thick pink
of mums
cuts through
the darkness


in bed
in pajamas
the sound of a car’s backfiring


he hasn’t picked up the phone ~
on the bedside table
a book of tanka
and one of senryu


munching on a piece of chocolate
can’t help
turning around abruptly
there’s a sense
of something behind me


whisper of leaves
and the voice
of the night sprinklers …
the moon is God’s
all-seeing eye


Verdi’s “O Mon Dieu”
or will it be Strauss’s “Salome?”
none of those
i head to the kitchen
for a bit of chocolate


the kid’s in the back room
a city out of Leggos
i stare in the mirror
making faces


nothing transcendent
happened to me
the way
he spoke to me earlier
something’s lingering


i want dahlias and
a hint of baby’s breath …
i want Mahler’s music
playing in this fantasy
called, ‘my life’


Orrin Tyrell
Dallas, Texas