A Sonnet after Chopin’s Requiem

You press your fingers to my spine, inhale

Filmmaker Timber
Partner Cave Canem

A Sonnet after Chopin’s Requiem

            for E.M.D.
 
Let every day be night, let everything
be gone. Let only rest the music here.
Timpani beats, an undulating cheer;
its pulse and throb a body’s stammering.
A thin mazurka’s labyrinthine wail
echoing the rise and fall of strings,
that blue-black body of the Steinway sings.
You press your fingers to my spine, inhale,
you pull me in and hold until I sound.
The hammering of sibilating wires
steel and tethered to a bed of springs
articulate in uttered voiceless sound,
a tongue of keys alive with fingered wires.
Oh yes, I whisper, this, my love, is grand.

 


“Sonnet After Chopin’s Requiem,” a poem by Monique Adelle. ©2014 Monique Adelle. Used by permission.


 

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