dance like a stroke of breath
from a non-spatial palette, cerulean
unshackle my mind
where and the when and the why.
your pianissimo speaks I cannot fathom,
tones are expressed as colors waltzing,
And I hear
youprancing past a body of water
filters lightning through easel-born pines.
Merely a shadow of an echo of
something glimpsed in a mirror
the mist breaks up and the
Spring-soaked cedar in cinder-hues
breathes burnt umber:
to face an ocean of rusted memory,
sunburst penumbra turns with you,
ghost of a tree in a traceless mirror.
that toppled into existence out of no clouds
an echo of a viola on windowless seas.
hoping you could explain these strings to me,
blood drenched on doorposts where sacrifice ceases.
these people? Are they hiding from
words set to music, Lamb's grapes on scarlet-woven surf?
know that those faithful fortissimo tides
the promethean sands out to sea? Break lightspeed?
Copyright © 2012 Robert E. Romanelli