Let Be by Barbara Daniels

          in memory of John Claps

For a night journey I vow silence.
Tires struggle on asphalt, deer walk

like brown phantoms at the edge
of the parkway, hooves in gravel, teeth

in the grass. The wind itself is an instrument.
Even the stars have something to say.

What died with the man was the clangor
of roller skates down Tasker Avenue.

Night looms over me. At the center of memory:
mystery. After a while I sing along with the radio,

talk back to the Phillies for letting runners steal
bases at the back of a new young pitcher.

A deer starts toward me and jinks
sideways. I pass safely among the trees.



Barbara Daniels’ Talk to the Lioness was published by Casa de Cinco Hermanas Press. Her poetry has recently been accepted by Permafrost, Westchester Review, Philadelphia Stories, and Coachella Review. She received four fellowships from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts, the most recent in 2020.