The Sound of Music (draft/incomplete)

That crazy mexican is playing
tijuana circus music again.

His son is small with a face
the color of vanilla beans.

I think of emaciated foxes
hiding in their darkened dens.

My grandfather listens
to Chopin, his teeth

aglow in the dusk-
piano keys in moonlight.

When he hums, the walls
close in like curtains.

Someone upstairs is holding
a cello, a soft embrace...

I can hear them making love-

the bow of thunder drawn
against across thighs of night.

Wolves with mouths, gracefully
shaped - astonished "o"s

sing of trees, meadows, rivers.

Wild angels in large fur coats
compose- the sound of music.

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