By Icess Fernandez Rojas
A woman sings through the walls and my ear picks up the melody.
Notes, long, stout, whole and half, dance in front of my eyes
Ascend and descend, rolling through rhythms
Like seductive snakes.
Pitch is perfect and black.
Dark like the part of my brain that stopped working.
Or the part that’s caged by change
On the breeze through the walls the melody hits.
Repetition against the drums in waves
From an ocean with no coast
And a beach with no sand.
A paradise found among sound
And an old flame at the base of forest fire
Hidden among quarter notes.
Disguised as movements.
Short. Shorter. Shortest.
Cresendo to forte until the notes stand still.
And they will
When the Siren stops.