I can’t sing, but I hear each beat of my blood pumping as my heart dispatches the flow
from artery to artery. My rhythm vanishes as this violent drum Pounds
the air, musical notes buzzing from piano to saxophone. Stage curtains are open
but there is no show. These hopeless lyrics blush my warm cheeks, I think
I could be staring at a million eyes. I can’t sing. But her words are my cry song.
E flat to C sharp, I lie on my bed rubbing my big belly, like a pregnant Mantella frog listening
to Beethoven. What does she take me for? A coconut, smooth creamed soft and hairy hardhead?
her fingers move to the beat as she passes note to note through her hands,
I imagine her patiently holding the edge of the violin, ripping each string with her finger tips.
Gentle, I say, you need to get the notes right, this symphony number five in C minor.
How can we reach a high note if we move too fast?
Diyo Mulopo Bopengois a Congolese from the DRC who grew up in South Africa. He fell in love with music, drama and art as teenage but later joined a business school. He is a warm-hearted individual who loves people and mountains. His hidden talent came to life when he joined Good Chance’s Change the Word Poetry Collective in 2019. He has co-published 3 anthologies with the collective.