I Hear You in the Wood

I hear you in the wood.
The house went still. The oud did not.

Your scarf is still on the chair.
The risha finds the phrase I wrote the week you left:
eleven notes, and my hand stops at the twelfth.
The string rings on after I let go.
Downstairs they stack the chairs.

Ya rouhi, I should forget you.
The soundboard will not agree.

Let it ring, let it ring.
I hear you in the wood.
Eleven notes. The twelfth will not come.
Two glasses on the table. One goes cold.

Every note brings you back and walks away.
Let it ring. I hear you in the wood.
Let it ring. I hear you in the wood.

Since March the waiter has stopped asking.
He brings the second glass.
I have restrung this oud twice. Same silence, same place.
Last night the boy downstairs asked how it ends.
I told him I would let him know.

Ya rouhi, the case stays open.
The peg slips back to you.

Let it ring, let it ring.
I hear you in the wood.
Eleven notes. The twelfth will not come.
Two glasses on the table. One goes cold.

I carry the oud down at closing time.
I play the twelfth note over the stacked chairs.
The waiter puts down his cloth and listens.
I lay it across the boy's two hands.
I go up the stairs with nothing.

Let it ring, let it ring.
I hear you in the wood.
Eleven notes, and tonight the twelfth came.
One glass on the table. I ordered one.

Downstairs the boy is playing it wrong already.
I hear you in the wood. It ends like this.