Judy Kronenfeld The 2River View, 8.4 (Summer 2004)

Awakened, as if by his
eerie dream, I stood at his door
in the milk-blue dawn
before he left home--
his phonograph stuck
on two chill notes.
Dials glowed green
as phosphorescent fish;
the mute t.v. blinked and gulped.
Wading through water, I steered past
his moored hulk, lifted
the needle, grasped
his flung arm. Then I swam him back
to the surface, and he let me
save him, one
last time.

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