Classical Music
Listen, listen: the organ is singing
under the weight of the chapel roof
and we in the pews are sighing our sorrys.
Outside, the crickets and fairywrens
are singing too, only their song is older.
It is the laughter that existed before laughter,
it is the warm, thrashing flood through veins
that existed before apology.
As children, with sun caught between teeth
and hands splayed in primordial dirt,
someone taught us to speak when spoken to.
Listen, listen: through the stained glass
portraiture of contemporary shame,
the outside is waiting for your reply.