Ann's poem

Hey, here's one of my poems in its revised state. It's one that was in my portfolio and I thought I'd post it... more of a taste of my poetry if you want, I guess. Maybe I'll post more later. Oh, and this is for my friend Ann G. who was in Germany with me last year.


SOPRANO ANN

Her voice, shrill, sings Soprano.
Drink tightens her chords,
loosens her tongue.
That weapon, the tongue.

She rattled German to waiters
in Ami-pubs,
who shirked her requests
when she sang them “auf Deutsch.”
Losing herself in her country,
with her loose and dangerous tongue.

She floats among hillsides:
Ireland, Scotland and
green green green.
Her “Claddagh” ring
faces inward and down,
hands cup heart, and
she sings a dream:
A kickin’ lover and pesto
pasta cooked with chicken,
frisbee tournaments alive with sweat.

Shrill she speaks,
scats Soprano with the band,
still, when teased,
she snatches loose prejudice
with her well-guarded and
courageous tongue.