The space between chimes draws me in

The black keys.

That once I thought all was symphonic,

Without subtlety.

Pasting over minor cracks.

If divinity dare exist in this scientists’ playground

of a mind, it does it in melodies.

Cutely poised treble, and

vibrato troubling little but

the air lulled to soothe.

When ascending scales

descend the males spines

and dining femme fatales

Mounting clamour finds,

‘Oh my words’.

It’s the space between the words that

hold these thoughts

caught spider-like.

Dancing on a thread without anchor.

That I only saw once.

It is the gap of peace between troubed

Spikes

In daily lives.

And I’d never noticed before.

That it’s the space between chimes that draws me in.

The Black Keys.