Music Of The Porcupine Musician Poem by Elna Nel

I wanted so much
to stroke his face
that he can see
how the music of the day
sparkle in freshwater
and as the notes
splash and plop
it would contain
the best melodies

but would I
be able to
do that now
that his words
are godless here
scorning lemonade
on trays
organ and accordion
he rattles
and rises
threatening
I know music

it's white and black
ringed pins it is
aardvark holes and tunnels
bark and bulbs
fruits and tubers it is
the flute's breath run out
the guitar's day tunes weary
the violin ceased to play

long before the day
could argue with the night
he started rattling his quills
rising heavy metal without guitar
will he ever know how notes
sparkle in soft water
once the loose long pins
of his comrades start
shooting randomly?