Washing Attention

While the sweet drum thrums
And the strong voice quavers
Through the hours-long folktale,

Other voices chorusing after each
Small narrative segment,
The mind trained elsewhere

In an unrelated language
But capable of recognizing
Rhythm, voice, and segmentation

Settles into the coils of song,
Letting the reticulated dragon
Embrace and crush all other

More articulate, ordinary thoughts,
Like wringing the dirty water
From the progressively cleaner

Clothing of a body tuning
To the pattern of a story’s structure
It can’t parse, can’t parse, can feel.