Drummer Boy

affection poem



I knew a boy once,
tall as a bell tower
blew past six feet
like an acquaintance
in the super market
he didn’t feel much
like talking to.

Played drums,
of all things.
Like to make a racket
with his hands, see?
He tapped and
hit and slapped
anything hard,
anything hollow,
coaxing the song
out of its soul.
You catch my drift?

In his shower
of eighth notes,
his syncopated
hiccuped staccato,
the rubato he pulled
and stretched like taffy,
hand to God,
inside those rests,
little explosions of
silence between thumps
is where I learned to dance.



photograph by Michael Mongin


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Noelle Currie

I have been writing short fiction and poetry for ten years. I recently completed the second of two novels that are currently unpublished. I was the winner of The Book Doctor’s Pitchapalooza in 2013 and recipient of the Gold Medal in poetry in the Tunxis Academic and Art Challenge in 2009. I submit poetry and short fiction pieces to the creative writing website ImageCurve.com weekly. I graduated from the University of Connecticut in 2013 with a degree in vocal performance. My second love is singing opera.

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