Record Player
by Wendy Wisner

He dipped an orange rag in a glass of water
and slid it over the glass top.
Sometimes he would lift the top,
put his hand inside and tap the dust
off the needle, and if the power
was on (I think it always was) a thumping
filled the room, tender and electric,
my father?s sound.


Copyright © 2022 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.