Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Tipping the Scales

I sing old songs when alone
lyrics in broken parts
my mouth a gate
to this secret
combining words
bending them
along the way
in hieroglyphic code
but the heart is what matters

or so I surmise

and though I’m winded on cue
deep breath, I continue

backwards and forwards, croaking
in glottal fits,
cappella jangles
the pitch cracks
scales jam
tune blunders,
until
note after note,
the solo dies

and
afterward,
my jolly pulse beating double
with no trouble
I still
feel the music in me

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Prompt: A Secret Joy