It's Still Life

Just Call It Music

I know a song, and it’s
full of spring light fullness,
of winter wind fury, and

seas overfilled with salt.

And so much love in it,
as if living is love, as if life
without love is not living.

It’s a complicated symphony,
as if music is life’s accelerant.

And I confess to loving
a fresh ironed white shirt
that’s sharp as a piccolo,

and licking chocolate
from my fingers, mmmm
of my single-stick erhu,

and vodka pasta sauce
stirs Rimsky-Korsakov in me,

come on, play me a tune on
crisp fried bread, my güiro.

And I confess to loving cathedrals,
candlelight, and biblical speech,
and my heart surrenders to Bach.

It’s all music.
Listen.

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These poems/prose are draft versions, written in participation of Miz Quickly’s prompts and Writers’ Digest (Poetic Asides) November poem-a-day challenge. The aim: to produce a chapbook for submission. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter. Images are ©Misky, and created using AI-Midjourney.