The quince blossoms unfurl
in the warm room
their branches trembling from
Pictures at an Exhibition
hurtling from unseen speakers
like the D Train rattling teacups
in a West Village walk-up.
Even the talents
of Maurice Ravel
could not rescue
Mussorgsky’s muddled mess,
its ten movements
longer than a Moscow winter.
-
Decades ago
tulips and daffodils dancing
on the Common,
a symphony
a first date
a last day of school
a warm Boston evening
a fine dining room
his small hands and large bravado
like a tiny Nantucket scallop
in its grande white shell.
A stripped bed
an empty dormitory
the rustling plastic
of a mattress cover
echoing across cheap pine desks
down cinderblock hallways,
the dullness of the the Russian’s keystrokes
ringing in my ears.
-
#fetishizingmussorgsky #classicalmusic
Heritage Culinary Artifacts