Wood With a Mellow Breath
With palms so chaste and a grip so pure
She wraps her fingers around the mallets
Letting them sit in the space between her thumbs and first fingers;
When she makes her first few strokes
Hammering smoothly up and down,
There is no other sound but
a breast of ribs whose mopane mellows the ear
And a throat of cigarette paper
whose hum somewhat bellows unto the heart;
Then she sings a ballad of two lovers whose clans forbid it,
Soon the astound trees rustle in accord,
Her voice is a wrench that loosens the valves in my eyes;
Tears collecting with the first few words,
I wish my lover was here with me.
After thirteen stanzas, my lonely eyes leak with homesick-tears ...
Deep in the ridging belly of the Zambezi valley,
A lily of the Kariba has found
grace in her hand with the xylophone.
17/07/17
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Kunda Chamatete | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment