Uncaught Melody

Among the disorganized clutter
of words and half-thoughts
He picks a path to the stage

The light is on
and edging to the microphone
clears his throat

"I have nothing to say,"
he says
"thank you."

The notes are all there
and the strings are tuned
this moment passes, and another

It's late, the room is empty
and there is time
to breathe again