Singing the Duet Solo
After the Kaua‘i ‘ō ‘ō
Mov. I
I hear no chorus while I clutch this branch
Since no other chirp can reach me
So I sing my call, anticipating interrupted whole rests,
but eventually, channel another voice of mine to respond.
Either my song will change or end abridged.
As a chick, I listened to my parents duet,
Taught that our world works in duets.
Like chainsaws and trees, like ditches and waste,
like beaches and glass, like wind and whispers.
We the Chorus watch as your song ebbs.
Perhaps I was meant to make the final speech.
The one forced to serenade my echo.
Mov. II
And so it is recorded, the hope of these warbles
that everyone else sees as past hope.
How do we bear the news that no other flyer
can sing in the endling’s language?
What do we do with a song no one can sing
after the composer meets the stars?
Do we learn the songs of lost languages,
and sing for the memory of what could’ve been?
Dare we fill in the missing notes,
and pass on a song with mistranslated measure?
I hear no chorus while I clutch this branch
Since no other chirp can reach me
So I sing my call, anticipating interrupted whole rests,
but eventually, channel another voice of mine to respond.
Either my song will change or end abridged.
As a chick, I listened to my parents duet,
Taught that our world works in duets.
Like chainsaws and trees, like ditches and waste,
like beaches and glass, like wind and whispers.
We the Chorus watch as your song ebbs.
Perhaps I was meant to make the final speech.
The one forced to serenade my echo.
Mov. II
And so it is recorded, the hope of these warbles
that everyone else sees as past hope.
How do we bear the news that no other flyer
can sing in the endling’s language?
What do we do with a song no one can sing
after the composer meets the stars?
Do we learn the songs of lost languages,
and sing for the memory of what could’ve been?
Dare we fill in the missing notes,
and pass on a song with mistranslated measure?
September 2024
Robyn Katona is Cree, queer, and primarily a poet. Their father is a member of the Fox Lake Band. They earned an MFA in Creative Writing at MNSU, received the 2021 Robert C. Wright Award, and completed the 22’-23’ Toni Randolph Fellowship at MPR News. Their published work includes poetry, CNF essays, and North Star Journey pieces. Typically their work focuses on identity, connection, and wildlife imagery. They reside in Minnesota (the Indigenous homelands of Anishinaabe, Dakota, and more) and stand with Land Back and Palestine.
Art: Kelly Cressio-Moeller, Childhood Faultlines. Mixed media: acrylic, ink, paper, mica flakes on basswood panel, 2023.