Top of the Charts

Sipping rose by a crackling fire

I think of you

For no other reason but loneliness

Perhaps, I could turn this into a country tune,

sung by a buxom bleach blonde heaving each note as she goes,

or a sappy torch song, purred by today’s comeback queen

Shall I exert my melancholy onto others

Time and again via elevators and dental chairs

While collecting awards and accolades,

Gifting sorrow for generations?

Top ten? Naturally.

Even my heartache dispensed by my poisoned pen is a righteous calling.


Little girls humming my tears on their way to school

Wives strumming to the beat of my broken heart at PTA

Awaiting the cover version or latest remix to chart

Gold, platinum, single, double

Doesn’t matter the prize

Misery could be good

Regret could be grand

All that would matter is who I wore and what jewels I named


Alas, I refrain and finish my rose

In hopes of opening that Chardonnay and extinguishing this fire

Rather than croon a new melody

My blues seek a better agent

Well beyond the written word 

Rescued by the right chords

Lavishing with the right director

Relishing in visual cues. – ©2014, Latanya Ivey






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