The trills of a Spanish guitar,
bitten by a syncopated rhythm,
drive into my body.
The grasses stand on end,
waiting to be raked by wind.
When he sings,
I am a wild desert flower.
Laughing recklessly,
I toss my skirts and shake my hair,
wild castanets throwing color.
Previously published in The Long Islander.
- Artifacts of Sound
In Artifacts of Sound, Annabelle Moseley invokes Polyhymnia, sacred muse of music and dance. This collection is a virtuoso performance, sonorous and engaging.
The classical guitar is probably one of the most beautiful instruments I have. Spanish music is one of the best styles to play. Although I can’t quite relate to the skirt and hair part of the poem, I recognize everything else.