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of all the places
by Maria Massarella
one could dance
i perform mine
closéd eyes baréd feet
in computerspotlight
fingers pin whitelace nightie to drape
airkissed thighs
voice elates in song
imagine
the surprise that opens my eyes
a male voice
joins to duet with me
my splendid son
claims his computer in song
i lament a laughsong need to complete my dance
and mine the shower-priority pre-forwarding myself to yoga class
he resolves in simplification
i'll forum at my pc (he musics) you
little one can do all the dancing you want just lower the volume
but i want to flamenco! (i smile into a plea) don't volume it too low
and so it is that the accord(o)Â
is found and i
i surround him with dance
embracing the song in semi circles graced
naked feet drum tempo on ceramic tiles
fingertips pluck fruitstars from the cosmo
*m.angelina
11/08/2007 Author's Note: in progress
Posted on 11/08/2007
Copyright © 2024 Maria Massarella
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Anne Engelen on 11/08/07 at 03:23 PM I can picture this so well and all I can do is smile :) |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 11/08/07 at 03:39 PM The dance ... always... in progress... and the spotlight sweet as lifetimes stretch of music's magic touch on key... as it can be... foreverly... your gave him song so sweet that he glows there and sings it patiently pre-yogaly... I am sure it was an especially wonderful time... and now I have adorned the memory with more lilt I hope--and lyrically -- whatever will you do with me? |
| Posted by David Garner on 11/08/07 at 08:12 PM wonderful, beautiful, evocative imagery. I like it a lot. |
| Posted by Alisa Js on 11/12/07 at 05:14 AM What a beautiful description of love... pure and sweet between mother and son... ((((hugs)))) from across the ocean blue.. alisa |
| Posted by JD Clay on 11/24/07 at 03:51 AM This poem has depth! Computerspotlight, raised nightie, bare feet, flamenco!
I like the narrative yet interactive style with a harmonic, motherly side.
Oh, by the way, there’s a tiny gold star on your ‘C’apricorn key.
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