it was once called

it comes like a convict
squeezing through bars
and is gone before
the promptest siren

it suddenly turns
in the ear or rides
the eye of a thought
before dissolving

i have it in a faint
taste or shudder
an ache like a spring
high in the mountains

it was once called love
and now a longing
for a song to be heard
that doesn't bear singing