The right song slow dancing through the air
at the end of a long day full of kids
and no husband, could not only set the tone,
but put the sound of yesterday back in the air.
Smokey Robinson and the Miracles crooned
all the sweet words that his eyes whispered
across the doorframe when he finally came home,
but more often than not, it was Sam Cooke
and Ray Charles or Bobby Blue Bland taking turns
in my ears, reminding me how much I loved that man
no matter how mad or lonely I might have felt.
The right song was like a Kodak Brownie of us cuddling
or an atlas mapping out all our rough spots
and the ways around them. After sweet talking him out
of his suit and tie, after he unloaded the day’s burdens,
we melted together in the dark, beneath the covers
and the crackle of the radio. The sound of my guys
singing backup and Medgar’s jack hammer heart
finally slowing to match our leaky faucet, as he fell asleep
in my arms, completing the soundtrack for a perfect night.