Sea Room

Signature Music

Signature Music He stood at the steel sink scraping off flaky burls and rusty filigree from oysters, a grainy clatter against the hushing vowel sound of the tap left open. From the radio, the melody was sadder for its tendency to sound scratchy and unlevel, slow, then hurried as if a girl too weak to turn the lever was cranking a Victrola. Always, it was the sea behind the thin curtain, the steady respirations of someone confined to bed because of chronic malady or some seasonal despair. We heard the bay's warped surface whining nearer; all its schools offish, its sifting gels and microscopic swellings added resonance. I tried the bowl of my glass, wetting my finger and in fast circles reached a warm, flat tone which answered the foghorn at Long Point. The calm between us was so great, all external noise seemed wry and beautiful. Linens snapped on the clotheswire, a terse refrain in the dark. Then, the speechless call from the lighthouse, one metronomic measure of white light repeated for the lost, the same deaf swirl for those at shore. 21 This page intentionally left blank ...