Tone Deaf

 

If I keep playing in E minor

perhaps you will not hear any music at all

but the still, old sound of raindrops on the window,

the mirror-slick orbs patting

the glass like tears on crystal cheeks,

Listen! the window is just that: a window,

not a metaphor. But a window overlooking the oaks

dropping acorns across the sprawling thistled lawn,

and the cheeks can be metaphors and the tears can be nothing

but commas and other familiar punctuation

to get at the thing that needs to be said

without saying, well, anything at all.