Golden Harp Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Castanets shriveled gold glare
Used and sheer silk stockings
Titans of quantity
Abyss of abandoned ideals

Inspired like Paris
Fallen on breasts of iron
Carved in smooth swans
Monuments of voluptuous fleece

Rise with sails and draughts of pearl
Grasp that which no asp attacks
Gardens that never cry
Strength elevate with turquoise

Diadem marvelous in new ether
We speak like roes and lions
Tired of the old translucent heart
Framed in the Louvre forever

When the speechless sing
Flowers bloom like sighing larks
Her name is epiphany
Graceful, serene like a golden harp