LOVE IS MUSIC

Love is music,
the swollen prelude mounted
on rolling notes
thrusting into passion’s sway.
Senses playfully corrupted,
scarred artistic palette
hurried into punctuated hush,
each mezzo sopranic trill
screeching greedy accents
spilled on tone deaf appendages
the thrill scorned,
scoffed,
rejected or worse –
slovenly bemused by too many notes
merely drinking in polite applause.Ever shifting scales
liquefy the subtle arts
into a mimicking clattery
batter of each pulsated fall
metronomic tic-tic-tockings:
Andante!
Allegro!
Allegro!
Andante!
…until all strings are plucked
to noise-less distraction.
…and love is music
a blackening kiss
drawing curtained curiosity
to its bosomed close,
heartless and cruel
under taut dissatisfactions
from a conductor’s baton.“No. No! Try it again!”
…giving rise,
not to Puccini’s glissando –
but Don Giovanni
licked by flames.

@Nick Zegarac 2006 (all rights reserved).