In a sing-song voice.

 

In a sing-song voice (like this),
she told of the sky (which is not heaven),
with long pauses, which she imagined
filled with the sound of many accordions (like this);
And of the molten center (which is not hell)
and how it felt to be floating (like this)
between.

And she told of the love songs she used to hear (like this);
all about loss and longing, and she told of the songs
she hears now (like this).  The songs of
mixed emotions, of murky unknowing, and she said,
in a sing-song voice (like this)
that love is 
not blind,
not cruel,
not all,
not smoke;
it is floating between.