Words
by Arun Sagar
Arun Sagar

Arun Sagar currently lives in France, where he is a doctoral student at Rouen University. Some of his poems have appeared in journals including 14 by 14, nthposition, The Literateur, Press 1, and Free Verse.

How lucky musicians are. Tonight
a saxophone sounds tentative notes
somewhere on my street, as if tuning up,
and the whole neighbourhood seems
to hush itself. The phone rests in my hand,
though you've disconnected; too much static,
and so tomorrow we shall finish
recounting this past year, my paper, New York.
The lilt of your accent disconcerted me
at first, like the draught the open window
aims at my chest. There's the sax again,
now improvising in a minor key,
echoing through shops and parking lots,
filling attic places, telling tales.

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