Pygmalion
He used to try to impress girls
By improvising upon the piano
And making them tiny origami birds
As if he could sculpt charms
That would open the wings of their hearts
And lift them up into flight
But because he was self-taught
His music was fatally home-made
As were the birds that fluttered in vain
For he never learned the language
That conjured love out of thin air
Or crafted its glorious ascension
© Richard Schnap
Richard Schnap is a poet, songwriter and collagist living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His poems have most recently appeared in such publications as the Poppy Road Review, Carcinogenic Poetry, Boston Literary Magazine, Full of Crow Poetry, and The Camel Saloon.
The Loch Raven Review 