"I" Tune

Movement, rhythm well up from the drum beat
that has replaced my pulse.
Blood rushes-a blue, tinny tune-and a cacophony of
emotion snares the tapping, snapping motion
of my hands and feet.
My hips move of their own accord, swimming in the
current of sharps and flats.
Fingers wipe the notes that dampen my
hair and bead my forehead.
I, then licking the salty juice from my fingers,
become the tune.