The Songs

I spent one summer
at the piano,
in the dark -
only a single slant of light could ever get in
through that low window,
leaning yellow dust motes. 

I watered the keys, dripping my sad heart
through my fingers
and grew plants from the shadow lines -
a black and white garden;
minor enchantments
in a basement room.

And then I fainted.

I am the leaves
That first need the sun -

Feet in the soil,
Face to the sky
To entwine the songs 
Of daisies and thorns.

C. LJ Ireton 2024