Poetry Society Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Neurotic tongue with no quarter notes
Cardinals with breath in white slippers
Language is neither pawn nor king
Stairways in Vienna proud like stars
Fractal poets between the guillotines
She sings of Vermeer in spring

French windows over the garden
The soul sails over the constellations
Purpose is the mystic healer of Bach
Chopin sits quietly by the fire
Candles with no Mediterranean romance
Your new world lacks sapphires

I retreat into nostalgia
Representational art gone
An old man in dim light
Neurotic and grumpy
Beauty only in middle C
Bury me in the Louvre

Her blue eyes look at the pyramids
Fields of Beethoven’s Fifth
She opens the curtains
Some new genius is writing
Young and fresh with a lilac vase
She says, “Join a poetry society”