Lately the bandoneon comes in a half-beat late on the third number. I went to correct it three times and swallowed the words each time. Today I set my feet to that late beat instead.
That half-beat, I never taught it to him.
That sound carries all the way to the laundry eaves these days. I've caught my hands going still while I hang wash at night.
First time I've seen you fall into someone else's rhythm, sister.

