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This poem was published in
Issue 10
July 2005

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Niall O'Sullivan

Tuning

The last thing we will do
              is lose the frown.
He no longer needs the
              electric reader
as he tightens and loosens
              the string, listens
from the wordless depths
              that music came from.

In seconds, he’s hit a
              pitch perfect A
and is sent back to an
              early spring night
when they came together
              without a thought
of it coming to an end
              or lasting forever.