Tessa Monia

send me spinning
through words like vapor
virelays wielding vocal wings
tuning this lyre
with silken spun strings

the first tremble
tries to assemble
articulation and arpeggio
without arrière-pensée
and nothing but a naked
virginal ethos
that can harmonise
with an everlasting
escalation
of your
song

it is music
but it is whispered
through grapevine illusions
and memory mist
hiding a risible swarm
of pure intentions
ready to break through
and sink
a sharp but sweet
sting of jubilance
into my veins