winter storm harper

all this week i've been overhearing people
say things like "you hear about the snow"
& "we're gonna get hit." opening the
weather app i saw the little snow flake
icons over Sat & Sun & prepared for the worst,
stocking up on bananas & almond milk 
in case i was snowed in all weekend.
at my desk at night i looked up 
the storm's name. i figured it would 
only be right to know what to call 
her when she arrived in the form
of delicate water. "harper" as i found
was a great mass of blue rushing forward
on the radar like a scar or a birth mark
creepy up a spine. i checked my own
skin in the mirror to make sure it wasn't
on me. it's a simple name really,
"harper" means what you would think
it would mean: someone who plays 
the harp. i think of the big black
cover on the instrument in your 
music room & how no one ever uncovered
the harp the whole time i stayed with you.
when i was maybe 6 or 7 i used
to tell me dad that i wanted to play
the harp. i'd tell him every night
as he took me to bed & so he started
talking up the guitar so i'd get
the harp out of my head. in a sense
a did because i did pick up guitar
but in a sense i've been thinking
about the harp ever since & even more
than harps i've been thinking about
people who play them. i don't think
i've seen one's strings pulled in person.
i open my mouth to the size of a harp
& imagine attaching strings to every tooth,
tuning them until i pluck them.
after all that talk the snow never came,
rain plooshed all night. in a sense i was
relieved but i was also disappointed 
not just in the way that we're all 
disappointed when there's supposed to 
be a great chaos & everything turns 
out calm like fire drills or 
power outages, but also because i was hoping
to finally see someone play the harp.
i thought i'd open my front door 
in the morning & there the girl would,
nestled in the snow she brought,
strumming a golden harp. i would ask
her if i was allowed to play for 
a moment & she would politely say "no,
it'll melt if you touch it."
i'd sit & listen to her as the dust 
collected, absentmindedly i would 
checking my skin for scars & storm
systems until the snow was done falling
& she put on the black cover, walking
off, bare-footed, continuing up.