By Joshua Arnold

Electric guitar chords
rise above a custard horizon,
a jagged newborn tangle
that ripples through the air,
a red banner fluttering in the wind.

An unseen drum begins
to pound out a steady heartbeat,
a carousel of bass that bobs up and down,
charming the chords into
little tornadoes of sound
that scream and howl with fury.

Golden piano notes spew forth,
mate themselves with the wild chords,
and tango through the rhythm,
a pair of professional dancers
whirling and twirling in perfect sync.

When the guitarist is finished
the chords blur and distort,
twist like smoke into the copper sky.
Silence seeps like black ink
through the now-stagnant air,
blotting out the indifferent sun.