Poetry
The Flautist
by Tara BrayHer shoulders round
over the line of light
while she betters the wren’s
dangerous song,
fingers ticking
to channel air.
The flute gleams, trills,
organizes flight,
the crowd struck
as she doubles over birdcall.
The scene is small,
the making fearful;
the flute has been confided in.
Tara Bray is the author of Small Mothers of Fright (LSU Press, 2015) and Mistaken For Song (Persea Books, 2009). Her recent poems have appeared in Poetry, Crazyhorse, Agni, The Southern Review, Image, and The Hudson Review, and have been featured by Verse Daily, Poetry Daily, and Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry. She currently lives in Richmond, where she teaches research writing at Virginia Commonwealth University
