In the last great season he sits alone
in the control room. A television man
is dead—one more murder, one more thing
to call to mind, concealing in loose loops
of wonder the exacting line, its clear mark.

That, later. Now, the crumpled detective
considers the console, monitors before him
in the studio booth. Doing as he has done
he begins pushing buttons. He has found

the character generator: on six screens
suddenly before him six auroras,
necklaces aglow twirling slowly
to the fanfare of strings, in his head
or beyond. Again: light waves revolving
unto peristyle, latticed courts, sextet
in carousel as the stately brass
gavottes Vivaldi. Wide-eyed Petrovich,

pusher of buttons, smiles. Again:
flute trills in his head or beyond,
hoops of light penché to sweet strings
cambré in the gentle bowing.
Again: Orchestral boom and bands
of light, croisé devant, flattened

in the final flourish, roll
of timpani conducing
head thundering heart
symphonic Petrovich
smiling on the verge
of tears, artist
of the uncovered
sense, rhapsodizing

Petrovich the man of law
living musically
on his way to breaking
alibis for two
full minutes of prime
time remembering
the lovely added things

/

Ryan Harper is an Assistant Professor of the Practice at Fairfield University-Bellarmine in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He is the author of My Beloved Had a Vineyard, winner of the 2017 Prize Americana in poetry (Poetry Press of Press Americana, 2018). Some of his recent poems and essays have appeared in Menagerie, Welter, Book XI, Portland Review, Third Wednesday, and elsewhere. Ryan is the creative arts editor of American Religion Journal.