of crying violin on cello membranes
spinning around my head
to wet filled eyelets
strumming heartless strings
rising up, bringing closer
up under a delicate chin,
a bow
drawn across a breast heaving,
to a ledge so close to dropping off,
posing delicate
now a quiet impasse
letting the edge go.
varying key to soft then growing,
again,
to an ecstasy
impossible
to describe,
orchestrally.