Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Niagara Sonnet Fifteen
When I started at this one quarter note,
perfect order of a five finger scale,
it became something of a killer whale
by Beethoven, a black and white emotive
played for background noise called the Fur Elise.
My classical training at dawn each day
never let me forget my practice way—
my gilded lily was a fleur-de-lis.
For I was small and a witness;
you are my father and you put my first
coat on my back before we went to church,
my brief spoken prayers were the crucifix,
beyond religion to the spirituals—
lend me your depth, I practice rituals.