Music From An Empty Room
Up in the above
roof gardens pluck air out of thoughts.
Changelings run between
brick walls
one is dead-eyed and evermore shall not see
yet it grows itself upon a dendritic tree
to hear what the empty places speak of.
Long moved furniture’s leave there after-images
they remain as stains upon inlayed grains.
inside the crumbling interior of bare floor
wood owls slowly turn spiral eyes
to see for those no longer here.
Above this homeless and dreaming mind
a straight-backed chair plays a dark cello
most melancholy are its tunes
that resound on ceiling and echoing ground.
The space within the structure will one day rupture
but for now a ghostly grey-matter
knits together
the under, the over,
and that room
where music sighs between two lovers.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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