The rumbles around sound-
roars that surround--
no discernable locale---
indivisibly missing
musicality, pressing
pieces like piano keys
vibrations strung out
taut us to feel
the re-percussions
in our bones, marrowly
on tune.
Aural artistry struck dumb
by letting too many high notes
float
off the grid.
This is how it sounds
when tears chime in.
Unlocking grooved records
teetering on a clef and
caught in a cosmic web
solidified as steam,
in thin air,
the words will find you
on the treble
if you feel deeper
than the brute beating
of unsound bodies.
Painting by Thomas Eakins, Elizabeth at the Piano c. 1875 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
