Challenging Poetry

my sister's bass clarinet

in the back of my head
shut up in the room with my vacuum cleaner
phobia and the way to my second
grade classroom is my sister’s
bass clarinet

it plays a constant tune
the low vibrations smooth as
polished rosewood
it's the same one my sister played
six weeks straight
when she was preparing to audition
for all-west
when she was in eighth grade

it bounces
the sound of the valves a soft clicking counterpoint
to the melody
it requires at least three breaths to hum
when it rises from its holding cell
to take over my head
which it does
even though I refuse to soak the reeds
in my spit
the way my sister did
so long ago

my sister is twenty-six now
married
with two children
and hasn’t touched a bass
clarinet in years

but still
at random intervals
I remember when she made first chair
on the strength of the little song
in the back of my head