The violin is in your hand.
It is lifeless. Just a collection
of substances and shape
and style and craftsmanship.
You place one end under
your chin. Pluck a string.
You tighten to get in key
known by ear. You draw
the bow across and finger
the strings. The recital
is later. Beethoven violin
sonatas. Practice time.
You close your eyes.
You know it by heart.
She will be there watching
and listening. Her eyes
all over you. Over you
like last night. Last night
yesternight betwixt thy lips.
You practice on and on.
You pause. That last
passage haunts. You play
it over and over. Enough.
You put away the instrument
and close the case. You
close your eyes and picture
her lips gently on your face.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:36 PM UTC
The violin is in your hand.
It is lifeless. Just a collection
of substances and shape
and style and craftsmanship.
You place one end under
your chin. Pluck a string.
You tighten to get in key
known by ear. You draw
the bow across and finger
the strings. The recital
is later. Beethoven violin
sonatas. Practice time.
You close your eyes.
You know it by heart.
She will be there watching
and listening. Her eyes
all over you. Over you
like last night. Last night
yesternight betwixt thy lips.
You practice on and on.
You pause. That last
passage haunts. You play
it over and over. Enough.
You put away the instrument
and close the case. You
close your eyes and picture
her lips gently on your face.
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