Ménage à Trois

I know by the sound of the cello that I’m in for something

with black orchids in it,

which is to say a fantasy

for grown-ups

in wonderville.

I sit up front

near the edge.

The conductor

loops her wand,

a magician,

the wonderful cellist

stabbing arpeggios.

Look at them.

I lean toward the two

of them even if I don’t

want to. They’ve got

me in their shine.

Gone to the moon on a G string theirs is an affair burnished

with musky notes,

copper sweat in the air,

music’s math aroused,

such goddam parity

in a hum sliced up neat.

Look at them.

Two halves of an equation

that describes love

and desire with wand

and cello. L =

something squared

with heat in it

and D, a field

lit up clean and

raw. Flowers in a

black storm. The three of us

triangled at heart. Tangle of orbits in a crowded room.

Lenny DellaRocca is founding editor and former publisher of South Florida Poetry Journal. He has invented the Epoem, a new form on display at his new poetry journal, Witchery, which is embedded online at South Florida Poetry Journal.