Skip to content

Opera

Opera

– Poetry by Bruce Meyer –

Saturday afternoons when I accompanied my father
on his weekend errands, he would dial the dashboard

radio to broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera
where a man with a mid-Atlantic accent explained

the grief of human calamity set to song. When traffic
snarled and a soprano lamented how she gave her

life to art while her lover was tortured in the wing,
my father would stare at the long avenues ahead,

and one day he told me he’d taken singing lessons
but the road didn’t go where he had hoped and fate

always plays a hand in what we are, though we sing
when no one hears the silence in a broken heart.


About the Author – Bruce Meyer
Bruce Meyer

Bruce Meyer is author of books of poetry, short stories, flash fiction, and non-fiction. He lives in Barrie, Ontario.


Did you like this poem by Bruce Meyer? Then you might also like:

The Identified Patient
What I want the surgeon to know

Sanctuary, and other poems
The Body as Poem
Metaplasia and other poems
This is What Death Does
Where Courage Lives
The Psychiatric Patient Profiled in My Application
Modern Medical Miracles
What the Mirror Says
Writing Myself Alive: An Episodic Poem
Breathing; Love These Lively Things

Oh Emma; Slow Dancing
In the Mirror, For My Mother

Zenstronomy: Zen of Instruction, Godma, Astrophysical Reality

To check out all the poetry available on Dreamers, visit our poetry section.

Like reading print publications? Consider subscribing to the Dreamers Magazine!

Tags: