Therese Bachand

“Thérèse Bachand lives in Los Angeles, where she has worked as a literary advocate for elementary age children. A440 is a piece inspired by the curriculum of 3rd and 4th grade music classes. Current published work incudes a chapbook from Mindmade Books (2012), and an essay and poetry in the online journal Sibila (2012, 2013).”

A440

“Whenever he felt particularly clever he would shape
the pieces of ice into words, but he could never quite
make the only word he really wanted, the word
ETERNITY.”
— The Snow Queen


1
Taste of crystals
dust a shovel.

Blow softly
and memorize

sorcerer free-
falling into flame.

Trees writ
on snowlength.

black = white
Relinquish days.


2
I can’t tell you
about the argument.

It must be
about   _____.

Stock quarted
in the freezer,

hot = cold
			
Days holding 
nothing but 

days.  Despair 
is the hollow 
				
thud of love, 
inverted.


3
Switch backwards
listening to 
				
long and short 
of it.  Will
				
earplugs translate
my headache?
				
Thumb is the
rightful owner
				
of this lyric.
Hear my voice,
				
fingering


4
Moved beyond
orphaned children,
				
foundlings of
hands and
				
different forevers.
The messiah
				
stood up 
and played 

games.  “Nice
to meet you.”


5
Entourage
resides in the frothy

world of already-
would-be.

Regret is not
an urgent

matter. Inability
with patina

of dark nail
polish.  Melody

mimics literal
of words.

Fevered,
a virtual dream.


6
I’ve squeezed the
rules out of

this clipboard.
"Resolution of

these many years"
leads me to

name names,
record dates.

Everyone else
is omnipotent

to the subsequent
revenue of redemption.

Carrying on
is my primary

constraint.


7
Yoke of days.
Parsing sand.

I wish I could
sing your libretto.

Send me a
postcard of

unexplained wishes.
What is the

recovery time
from unnameable

poems?
sand = snow


8
Taste of crystals
dust a shovel.

Blow softly
and memorize

sorcerer free-
falling into flame.

Trees writ
on snowlength.

black = white
Relinquish days.