Triage: Casualties of Love and Sex

I write the blues

and try not to slip

on the discordant notes

that crash to the floor of our page

merging sensibility

with common sense

I persist with soft beat

and light touch of pen

knowing what it is

to kneel in d-flat

transfixed and paralysed

knowing what it is 

to hang by the chord

of an unfinished masterpiece.