The Playlist
Sarah Muir

I hear you in alien tongues,
in sparkling guitars that swirl
into midnight air.

I hear you in bubbly synth lines
between murmurs of newfound love,
and wispy ethereal cries,

between stutters and hisses —
infinite s-s-s-sadness — guttural utterances,
light trembling intonations, and tired strums.

Outside with earbuds in, I watch icicles drip
from bumpers of parked cars,
as I slowly dive into the playlist you left behind.

For Matt