What she heard

Jude Goodwin

Girlfriend stops
and looks holy for a moment.
"Must be a wedding"

she speaks at her dog,

the chihuahua translator.

I hear nothing but dead air. 

I suspect I'm bell deaf.

In her hands, a piece

of raw meat forms into breakfast.

"Can you hear it?" The translator
barks. Through our window
I see the eagles have returned.

They perch on their cottonwood snags
like so many quarter notes - a prelude

along the Squamish River.

The translator pushes its nose
into my lap, the eggs start to boil,

Girlfriend stands in my kitchen

attending to her singing bowls.

Tattoo Art: Genevieve Caron