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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Cacophony
Kim Jaxtheimer
I slip the noose of your words over and around
your neck while you silently ponder
In your worn burgundy leather chair encompassed
by pallid pages which temporarily lend their meaning
Surrounded by self-declared splendor and Shostakovich
you slide deeper into your world which is your abyss
Your chasm created by you for you
not us your daughters who happened to witness your duplicity
Your composed universe compacts corners cautiously
constructs words conscripts phrases that supposedly matter
Guarded by your cello and personally annotated sheet notes
you curl into your bow to orchestrate a cacophony of dissonance
To fit your lies into a discordant meter
I decode your distant music hum your pitiful solo