A Sonata with Too Many Sharps

By: Maya Nalawade

The left side of my brain
was nurtured with the sounds
of Grandma’s Wagner records.
The fluttering sounds of violins
and booming hydes
sinking Awe
to the corners of the rooms.
The echoes rippling through the
Air. Fusing together.
A kiss
from Tristan and Isolde.

The right side of my brain
was molded by Dad’s
childhood favorites.
Colorful bollywood notes,
a hazy realm of the soul.
While smokey tabla drums in
Awara Hoon
sync with my child feet,
leaving me spinning in circles
till the blood
choked my vision.

Yet, when the notes from each side
All I hear is shrieking shards of glass-


Categories: Poetry

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