The Theater of Breakfast
by Philip Dacey Knife, banana, bowl — props for the theater our father staged each day as he gave voice to slice after slice: “I am the Emperor,
Against the Orchestra
by Philip Dacey If it’s to be a concerto for violin, let the orchestra score be transcribed for piano so that we hear two voices in dialogue with
Black and White
by Philip Dacey St. Louis. The Forties. The neighborhood poor white. (Or say white trash, given how when the flight to the suburbs happened
Triolet: At Juilliard
by Philip Dacey The female pianist’s long blonde lock of hair swings down before her face as she is playing fugal Bach. The female pianist’s long
Black
by Philip Dacey “My mother never let me wear black; now I wear black all the time.”
Egg
by Pippa Little fits in a palm or snug in an eggcup. Cool, undimpled shades of lukewarm milk, magnolia emulsion, plain and neat as clouds on an