Music

A poem about the power of music.

Blue demons scratch 

At your neck like fleecy collars

Winter seeps in like dishwater tide

The gray sky like steel wool

Or maybe the mistake 

That could have been buffed if you’d really tried 

Red devils dance 

In the corners of your vision 

Winter wraps the world in creeping ice 

So the air tastes like blood

Or maybe you’ve bitten 

Your tongue for the thousandth time 

Yellow creatures

Wriggle through the back channels

Of your brain, all frantic and feeble 

And winter is here but 

You haven’t gotten out 

Of bed for the cold and the people

Close your eyes tight 

Press the headphones close to your ears

Let the winter disappear 

Dance like summer, like fire -

Maybe the demons scratch

But deep in the music there’s nothing to hear