Monday, September 20, 2010

Soul Music

In black and white
The audience must weep grey,
As you ask,
Demand the piano its music.
Your eyes,
Unaware of your arms/
Fingers moving,
Watch the notes
Vibrating the air
Before they slip sweetly,
Into the audience’s ears.
You have contained your soul
Into notes,
Cutting it in tiny slivers,
Wrapping the slivers in black,
And playing them in cut time.
You offer up your slivers, your notes,
Your blisters and calluses,
Your dark circles under your eyes.
You relinquish them.
I take them. I bear them.
I form O’s with my mouth
Trying to sing them.
I cannot hold them.
They are yours,
They are not mine to hold.

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