The pianist's fingers touch. The keys
respond with terrible resonance.
What we think we understand
is capable of killing us.
Ivory has its own story. The quiet
deep density of teeth, of tusk.
The way it captures and releases
sound, its secrets.
O! let light and love, how it seduces
us tremble so exquisitely.
2 comments:
Oh! Yum yum yum! This is SO beautiful. With its own terrible resonance - of idea not sound.
You take me to a place I haven't been before. Sometimes in our poems we are saying what has been said many times before – how could it be otherwise? – and only hope to say it well enough to make it new for the reader or listener. This poem actually SAYS something new.
May I have your permission to use your work sometimes in poetry readings, and/or share it with my writing students, some of whom don't have computers.
Thank you Rosemary. Feel free to share my work... I would be honored! Thank you again for your supportive comments.
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