Tintinnbulation
by Jo Barbara Taylor
I
Wind
chimes wrinkle into timely pitch to report a windwhipped stir
in the air.
(you've heard them tingle)
When
the tornado trespassed in Richmond,
(those
days before sirens)
the chimes on
Main Street screamed and one block over, dead silence.
II
The
carillon holds dear twenty-three bells to give
us this day
every morning,
(you've heard them quiver)
our
matins in precise pitch tuned
(morning
reminder)
to stir a
sleeper or a sinner, soothe the souls of the dead.
III
In
Scranton church bells speak our daily
bread. When the Marias
toll, (you've
heard them shudder)
Aunt
Lizzie chants Hark, hark, the dogs all
bark.
(call to confession)
Repentance digs
in hard coal, lungs of the living, legacy of the dead.
IV
Winter,
sleigh bells answer the call of school bells and cowbells,
rhythms of
daily habits (you've heard them shiver)
when
snow cloaks the path.
(timekeepers)
The strike, the
hum, the overtone chime now and at the
hour of our death.
Bio Jo Barbara
Taylor lives in Raleigh, North Carolina, grew up in Indiana, and remains an
Indiana farm girl at heart. Her poems and academic writing have appeared in
journals, including Tipton Poetry Journal
and Inwood Indiana, magazines and
anthologies. She leads poetry workshops for the North Carolina Poetry Society
and OLLI through Duke Continuing Education. She has published four chapbooks,
the most recent, High Ground by Main
Street Rag, 2013.