Poetry by Lydia Kuerth
My mother revives ivory:
milking songs from ebony keys
stroked in 88 stripes
each finger sculpts valleys
dipping,
rippling
high as hills
a fugitive melody,
a forgotten fugue
Windows shudder;
A- thunder
sunders a daughter’s closed door,
unlocking enamel
behind closed lips
Lydia Kuerth is a freelance writer from South Florida, where she edits the Living Waters Review and serves as a peer mentor at her university’s Writing Central. As a lover of reptiles, rainy days, and role-playing games, when not burrowing into books, she enjoys hiking and observing small creatures.
