Punk Poetry: Play me, Music Man
By: Sondra Lowe
Your smile cracks like fireworks,
My knees crack like I’m about to pray to gods never believed in before…
Your hands clench the strings of me,
Speak so I can seek freedom like a balloon released.
I imagine your lips drinking in my skin.
Your eyes scare me because I can’t drive home if I let your spirit intoxicate me.
I don’t know what my mouth will do if my words are not written in ink but written with caresses;
We walked through the rose garden so you could make me forget how to speak.
The crickets play the night like a sheet of music:
Their legs are violins and our legs a brass plated string quartet;
The moon, our great conductor, your fingertips play me like an orchestra.
The sun will rise in a few hours to a ballad sung in laughter, and crickets, and toads, and the breeze across the lake, and talking about the stars.