Níyol

palm fronds drunk on sun, chatter and slur around me

I wonder if in all their movement they notice

that that they too are being danced

by the music of níyol

that’s the thing about her music

you want to reach out and touch it, hold it, taste it, even

but her invisibility seems to ask

a quiet listening instead.

Previous
Previous

I left should miles back

Next
Next

The pace of warm air