Brass Candelabra

A brass candelabra falls

as I open the lid.

I heard the hammers call,

so open it, I did.

I couldn’t hear the song,

muffled, hidden within.

So I clutched the strings, long,

and tore them with my grip.

Now the chords are wrong,

embedded in my skin.

A blood-note hammered strong,

again, again, and again.


© CGT, 2018.

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