The shiv'ring piano, foaming at the mouth,
Will wrench you by its ravings, discompose you.
"My darling," you will murmur. "No!" I'll shout.
"To music?!" Yet can two be ever closer
Than in the dusk, while tossing vibrant chords
Into the fireplace, like journals, tome by tome?
Oh, understanding wonderful, just nod,
And you will know I do not claim to own
Your soul and body. You may go where'er
You want. To others. Werther has been written
Already. Death these days is in the air.
One opens up one's veins much like a window.
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Comments
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the reason I read it is because I play the piano but it was a really good poem I like it keep up the good work it really pulled me in
~Rachel~ -
This poem catches the readers attention, and the poem also makes a sense of a dark dreary place of horrer.
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I really love the imagery. Somehow, it manages to invoke the strange and grotesque while also maintaining a rather tragic everyday feel..."death these days in in the air". It's lovely.
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