a poem a day for a year #66

by Amy Turn Sharp


After the Gold Rush on the record player
our bare feet touching
on the long worn sofa
spent from love
we turn over to sleep
to dream

When Dolly Parton covered Neil Young back in the 90's
she flat out asked the man
what the hell the song was saying
I am sure she said it with a please
I am sure her voice was clear and sweet

rumor is he told her:
"Hell, I don't know. I just wrote it."

we curl into balls
tender eyelids
the room is dark
one candle in the corner
and it is so clear and smooth the music
that runs off the record that
it could be 1970
and we may not even know it
it could be a long time ago
for all we know