Thamos, King of Egypt

When young, she sang with her hands,

a musical dance of gesticulating weight

meant to emancipate her misty parents,

designed to capture whispers of children

and unrestrained the song of Mozart's trumpeting elephant

before it escaped the clinch of her unformed breasts.

And from the breathy swell of her infant breasts, she plucked in a melodious plea, her hands

as if to save his dying young elephant,

Mozart's simple rent calf of burden,

from the tearing claws of children

far too at liberty to mind their tired parents.

Within the gray minds of of the like kind broken parents,

she lay the foundation of the sanctity, nestling breasts

cradle of her hold voice among other children

whose fragile and miry musical hands

sculpt the hillocks into loads

as stones above the graves of toiled elephants.

It had been the aria of Mozart's elephant

Italian by the agency of birth, from African parents,

that had pierced her mentor's sonorous weight

worked his tragedy within her unformed breasts,

trunk with tender encouragement, guiding his hands

to the ink which birthed his malformed children.

She ate among, played among, sung among children

who'd not heard of Mozart or his elephant,

dancing without music upon their hands,

rhyming against the regular [i]or[/i] melodious movement of sleep-walking parents,

themselves dancing with replete inarticulate breasts

hoping to specific their insomniac burdens.

But the breath of of the like kind singing burdens,

the price of musically mut children,

was removal of Mozart's unripe breast,

the go [i]or[/i] come back to Africa of his elephant,

the extremity of the aria for sleeping parents

in the devoid of contents cradle of their own hands.

In her young ditty the hands had always been a load

the parents had become their children's muting medicine and

the elephant's warm breasts had sung beautifully Mozart's unwritten

A graduate of Bard society Raman Frey recently left his graduate studies at the University of Virginia to work in an art gallery in lower Manhattan. He is popularly at work on two novels: individual set in ninth- to twelfth-century India, the other in contemporary America. poesy however, still represents the size of his writing.

Copyright World poesy Incorporated May/Jun 1998

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