by Heather Ann Schmidt

In Helen’s living room,

Marc plays his acoustic, following my voice

As I sing about love washing over me

Like the driving January rain outside

And I become the leftover autumn leaf,

Dried in the sun, floating in her koi pond

And he and I speak our language

He understands my other voice,

The one I don’t share with the rest of the world.

The one song that travels under my breath 


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Heather Ann Schmidt has taught writing and more for several institutions of higher learning in Michigan and online. Her most recent poetry books are The Bat’s Love Song: American Haiku (2009, Crisis Chronicles), On Recalling Life Through the Eye of the Needle [2011, Village Green], Transient Angels [2011, Crisis Chronicles] and Batik [2012, NightBallet]. She is also the founding editor and publisher for Recycled Karma Press.  Heather’s forthcoming collections include Red Hibiscus and Field Notes.  Find more at http://heatherannschmidt.yolasite.com.