Mark R Slaughter (1957)

She cried for all the broken hearts,
Painted everlasting winters -
Floral patterns etched in ice;
A frozen tear to
Soften up the bastard bones.

Bow made love to needy string
In cooing fling - wanton whispers
Fondled under pianissimos,
Caressing callous hearts.

Melodrama swayed in satin sound -
Yet the player wasn't there,
Only creamy song - soothing, yearning,
Teasing bitter minds.

I sensed her persevering loneliness
For beauty of an evening,
Romance of a tune - laughing,
Sobbing at the fire.

Then a climax -
Writhing passion cutting deep -
Wounding macho flesh;

And all in a work of musical art:
Ephemeral stories, yarned of music
Honed impossibly through her tones.




Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010










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