Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Blackened Notes


Yes,
I am stupid.
I keep putting myself
into the fury of her anger
over and over again.
When will I stop and say,
no more?
When will I refuse to jump in
to the fray
and turn and walk away?
Once I sang operas,
lonely arpeggios
that ran up and down the scale
in search of tears.
I saw colors.
The blackened notes.
The thick thrill of voices.
I stood there,
motionless,
looking calm before my audience.
Disconnected from my voice,
and song,
A smiling pretty.
A sugar machine,
cranking out beauty
by the second,
while what raged inside me,
the fury,
the steel burning of years,
would not surface
for decades.
Now,
when the kitten finds the mouse,
she eats him.