Jazz is the music

Tangibly, the web of silence grew,
where angry words flew
some moments before, now settled
in the creases of the curtains, anchored
to the nooks and crannies of the walls,
the piles of the Persian rug.
You ducked at the hit and miss, resigned
to the dull residue in the wine glass.
The words are gone, but you are trapped,
caught in the web
woven by the spider of loss.

Reach out, touch this silence.
Cut it with the edge of your mind.
Escape before the beast pounces.
Cheat it out of its own satisfaction,
kick-box its stronghold and launch
at its superiority.
Step on it, dance on it,
rid it of its power! Crash
its ugly black feet. Jazz
is the music that kills it off.