Emily Ash

hands, sprawling delicate,
flowing over white keys so softly.
I could practice a thousand hours,
steal the finger bones and brain cells
from lovely hands almost as nice as yours,
but, still… you’d beat me.
I feel so much when you play, like the notes
are delicate and precious gifts.
it’s unreal, how these stumbling syllables
are meant to convey so much more than
your gentle chords as they dance
through the wall, and settle under my tongue.

--

--

The words- oh your words! They swirl in the blood.

A fervour that warms and guides to the shore;

A cleansing wave that appeases the flood;

The shout of savagery that begins the war.

Each word is a wing, a hope to cling to

Before a bland, black force rips them away.

We need energy to fight! To make it through-

Wood for rafts, words for us, and both decay.

But I hate you, I do- take it all back!

These gossamer wings that were never mine.

For now, I feel everything that I lack-

No hope for Pandora; no silver line.

A sonnet to poets, well overdue.

But for you, dear heart, a warning for you.

--

--

Emily Ash

Emily Ash

bisexual force of nature with many opinions and a desire to make the world slightly better in any way I can