Madame Kalume

Avenue Kasa-Vubu, after ten
Speaker on the roof again
Three knocks on the ceiling
Madame Kalume knows the song

She sends the guard with a folded note
Some people need to sleep—please lower it
We turn it down for exactly one chorus
Then the sebene climbs the stairs again
It is not disrespect, Madame, we love you
We just love this guitar more than good sense
Her late husband played this exact little phrase
Every Sunday on a two-string instrument
Her light goes on, her light goes off
Not surrender—Madame keeping score

One note says lower
Two notes say enough
Third note has no exclamation
Maybe the wall is softening up

Madame Kalume, leave your light on
One more sebene before the night is gone
We saved your chair beside the speaker wall
Madame Kalume, come show us all

One knock
Lower
Two knocks
Wait
Three knocks
Madame at the gate

By eleven the guard is tapping one foot
The man from four B has brought two chairs
Corner-shop owner keeps time with his broom
A grandmother films from an old phone upstairs
Madame's fourth note says, A little lower
No capital letters, no line underneath
We know that handwriting changed its mind
The same way her light stays on through the bridge
Someone places one covered plate beside her door
Nobody knocks; nobody makes a speech
The guitar repeats her husband's little phrase
This time slower, leaving room for her

Madame Kalume, leave your light on
One more sebene before the night is gone
We saved your chair beside the speaker wall
Madame Kalume, come show us all

Guitar one
Answer
Guitar two
Answer
Her husband's phrase
Play it soft
Now leave one bar empty

The downstairs door opens at midnight
Madame Kalume stands there, arms folded
Nobody breathes
She listens through the whole empty bar
Then says, Your second guitarist rushes
Takes the plate, walks into the circle
Keep it down after one, not before
And shows him where her husband placed the turn

Madame Kalume, your light stays on
You took the middle when the bridge came on
The second guitar finally found the line
Madame Kalume, keep us in time
One more sebene before the night is gone
Half the building singing your husband's song

Half past one, the street goes soft
Madame climbs back upstairs
One new note beneath her door
Friday. Same song. I will cook