Evening Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

Evening



Singers practice for tonight's show.
It's a major performance
for the mosquitoes flown in from
far and wide

with me as the only one in
the audience. I listen to them scream
around me, some off key
but screaming nevertheless. There is an

acute need for more training
yet time is of essence. They cannot seem
to find the right singers, not today. The birds in
the trees sing their usual songs

undisturbed by the
cacophony below. The dog wonders in
and lifts her head to snap up
a tenor flying

past her nose like a dues ex machine.
She doesn't like the music, less
the performance while I sit tapping on keys
and slapping my arms and legs

to the unheard
beat as mosquitoes land around
me like drones in a desert in some far
away place no one wants to visit.

Thursday, July 10, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: music
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
This poem was first published in Cyclamens & Swords in December 2013.
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