Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Speaking in Ninths

by Steve King           
© 2011
All rights reserved

Voices never did quite mesh.
Whether one uplifted,
one drew the other down
toward an awkward median—
how is one to say?

A ritual chant perhaps,
some might have taken for a song.

Or just two lines
of strange accompaniment,
converging accidentals,
without that binding melody.

The strains remain at hand,
resonant within a realm
where echoes are relentless
and background chords
still drift beneath old moods.
in dark solo refrain…

Not disharmony, no:

Both moon and sun
might share a changing sky.
One must surely slip.