tagNon-Erotic PoetryRhapsody in Muse

Rhapsody in Muse

byAngeline©

Daddy played opera.
La Boheme or Joan Sutherland
mezzo'd through blonde wood hi fi,
ringing above that vinyl scratch.
Bellini would be proud of her,
Handel kvelling at La Stupenda
singing Roma to its knees.

I crossed mine, shut up
my ears or rode my Schwinn
away from that owl talk.
True, Brahms was cool, dig
Stravinsky's bones, dinosaurs
beaten in some other key,
trudging to extinction past
the dining room table, slower
more stately than grandparents.

Then one day a raucous howl,
a shriek hoots wide rhapsodic
piano rolls out big as cities,
my city, the blinding avenues,
the drill foot bustle sidewalks.

Oh Gershwin!

Play Manhattan skyscrapers straight up,
play avenues of symphony,
paint notes bright as streetlamps,
as faces full of weary wonder, nodding,
winking wisdom, heartbeats drumming blue,
contained like me, edging sidewise
through alleys, traffic until sometimes
broken free, dancing taps of midnight,
jazzy joy.


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byAngeline© 11 comments/ 3577 views/ 0 favorites

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