When I received Cindy’s photo’s this morning and Ashley’s poem, I was blown away at the playfulness of it all… and that I too had written something playful in the glow of Friday night. I know I have said it before, but this week may just be my favourite so far! So switch on readers, let the Friday Night Lights carry you through your weekend…
These fingers, the ones playing Mozart
right now are the same fingers
that moments ago were inside you.
And while your body does not resemble
a piano at all, these fingers played your soft
insides and you sang in endless surrender.
On your back, eyes filling with the powdery
light that spilled from the bathroom
you were singing. I could not make out
all the words, just as my fingers
now struggle to find Mozart’s key, but
it was your voice, wet with song, for me.
The dress, made of Lurex, weighs me down
with nothing but reflection, you see
the threads turn into the whole point,
alchemy. Unless I have a twin
not yet mentioned by my parents, her
knack for lighting up a party
in a dress with more gold than the gold
lettering on new police cruisers
I have become a precious metal.