Linda Malnack lives and works in Seattle, Washington. She has published poems in many journals, including The Amherst Review, Blackbird, the Seattle Review, and Southern Humanities Review, as well as a chapbook titled Bone Beads (Paper Boat Press). Linda is Co-editor of the e-zine, Switched-on Gutenberg, and Assistant Poetry Editor at Crab Creek Review.
Fugue in D Minor
What she sees out her left eye: the sleeve of his freshly laundered shirt, but not his face. His pocket, but not what’s inside. His lapel, but not the lipstick smudge. The stitching on his collar is a dotted line she cuts along. The closet door holds up the heaviness of his suit jacket. The piping, white against black, plays her the Fugue in D Minor. He lives somewhere across water, no one knows where. Slowly, the private detective pulls the hand from her right eye. She sees where the dark suit begins and the man ends. Somewhere light bends around a corner, looking for the lost key to the pachinko machine.