after Charlie Haden’s, “First Song”
No one remembers the first song
sung to them in mother’s whisper.
The words, merely notes to soothe
the savage beast at her breast.
Melody and milk can conjure
hypnosis, relaxed willingness
to accept natural comfort.
External vibrations first heard
in initial home, her body’s
warm womb echo chamber
where we treaded bass lines
tethered to the rhythms of her heart.
