Lonely Woman

by Andrew Romanelli

The plodding bass dirge—
swift drum-riff rattling.
The alto-sax and cornet
expelling in deep unison,
a crestfallen melody.
Bending notes—
both screaming naked
in the most desolate of dreams.
And through it she goes off wandering
away raw and              possessed.
Far from the isolated visage,
adrift in the freest expression.
The Lonely Woman
provided the (visceral) shape
of all muses to come.

© 2019 Helen: a literary magazine