Rose Mary Boehm

Confessions to Solfeggio

I am a note.
That much
I know.

I may be
a breve or
a minim
or, God forbid,
a quaver.

It could be worse:
imagine if I were to
discover that I am
The shame of it!

For all I know
I’m a natural.
Possibly a sharp?
Anything is better
than being flat.

Ghost notes are nice.
A pensato is just
too insubstantial.
Grace notes have
their decorative charm.
Just between us?
I’d love to turn into
an accidental.

Never mind.
Anything goes
as long as
I’m scored.

read "Whimsical Word Junket" by Rose Mary Boehm