Friday, April 10, 2020

TWO-STEP 
 
I watched them gig
in the pit
playing funky jazz licks
in modal timbres
made me squirm.
I thought,
I’ll blow this place
when this sweetie
be-bopped from behind
hands in my hair
said we can really groove.
Flattered, 
we danced through the night
till light
cut a ray
through her ceramic face,
cracking beauty
into puzzle fragments.
Flaking,
she started to sing 
the blues.

SYMPHONIC EVE
 
Walls pulsate
on waves 
of rhythmic Stravinsky jokes.
 
Crickets scratch song
to throated gurgles
of a bubbling spring.
 
Soft rain dances rooftop
and strokes panes 
on a mild breeze
 
painting 
vague shadows
upon sidewalks.
 
I sit here waiting,
content,
eager for sunlight’s
 
blinding glare 
to burst through darkness,
the grand finale.

SEAMSTRESS
 
Having mended
delicate strands of loneliness
tangling my heart,
she kneels in prayer
upon the floor 
with clusters of pins on her lips 
ready to bond a cloth anatomy.
Hemming, cutting
and matching thread,
her needle attaches 
bloodless seams in arcing lines
to invigorate a listless torso 
with warmth.
Still,  I dream of her
completely unwoven.

CARNIVAL
 
Ferris wheel revolves
velocity and glow,
a kaleidoscopic adventure
 
and screams of glee 
heard ‘round the grounds
duets with the singing carousel
 
which spins
to horse’s gallop
toward the house of mirrors
 
reflecting 
shadowy silhouettes
of our clandestine embrace.
 
Dozens of you
touching me
hundreds of times.

WRITER

 
He imagines us on the beach,
soft sand at our feet
just after lunch 
when warm rays and a delicate breeze
bid us rest.
 
He considers my arm around her waist,
my body sideways against bikini curves,
surrounded by seagulls 
that squawk for attention
and the litter seas throw.
 
It’s been so long for him.  
He has difficulty deciding 
what may be real
and occasionally doubts 
the idea of our very existence.
 

FLIRT

 
A propellant 
when she smiles,  
she kindles a flame
as she strokes my hair, 
kisses my cheek,
or grasps my hand 
and giggles.
I blush though 
my eyes reflect 
the fever she incites,
even as she speaks 
in riddles and feels
ungainly in my arms.
I am victim of her charms,
clever as a Mozart symphony
minus the finale.

Michael Keshigian

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