How Often Have I Walked Through My Front Door–Rachel Barton

felt the tension slip from my shoulders
like the paisley piano scarf from the curve of a grand
the pressure on my temples like calipers
two padded hammers’ prolonged strike–sostenuto
until I step over–pianissimo
the thick-felted threshold

though the clipped action of the outer world dances
in a jig a frolic rondo or barcarolle
persuades like the carousel’s calliope and mirrors
the delight of a quick jaunt in a sparkling swirl of notes and timbres
the minute soundboards of my ears’ drums
tire quickly signal retreat

I step into quiet when I open my door
the orchestra of a suitably rowdy life
fades into the walls
clocks tick faucets drip furnace hums
and the warm body of dog dreams
in soft whimpers on the couch beside me

The title of this poem is after Sherman Alexie.