Music is a predator,
it stalks, and bounds
into her mind, it prevents sleep,
showing its toothy volume,
it wakes her with its lilting call,
harassing and repeating,
any moment, it will eat…her.

Music is a lover,
it caresses, and strokes
into her mind, it chirps and peeps,
chuckling passionately,
it stretches her longing,
up-swinging its beat,
she anticipates…its devouring.

Music is an abuser,
willfully pounding,
into her mind, sharpening shrapnel,
shaking its fist, hammering,
it amalgamates her being,
coagulating its cruelness,
guzzling her…vitality.

Music is a soother,
quietly thrilling,
into her mind, equalizing,
calming her mode, flutingly,
it quickens her yearning,
achingly wringing,
gormandizing…herself.

Erin Moen
4/30/03