Violin strings, unsure what she’ll say
tightly strung bows, wrapped in fingers
dragged... across scalp
Screaming Notes, made from hair.
Four strings tuned - to a fifth
holding bridge, till tensions part
and vibrating sound - echoes
singing, unwound starts
the opera walls cry, as
fingerboards pressed…deep
changing pitch……
On your feet, you stand
with buckled knees, which clang
the sounding post, digs deep
in "F" holes, that scream away
supporting bridge, as flying tails
whip about, and waggled chins…sag.
Violin strings - die away…..
freeing hands stop their play
a quiet sound, fades----…
until a teardrop - quivering
lands upon
- the stage.
My favorite instrument of all time.
ReplyDeleteBreath taking, absolutely breath taking...
ReplyDeleteMy soul is moved..
Thank you.
Jessica
Love, love, love the fourth stanza! Beautiful work!
ReplyDeleteYou are such an amazing poet.
ReplyDeleteThis is a masterpiece, David. Really moved and touched me.
I feel and hear the chilling dissonances -
ReplyDelete"dragged... across scalp
Screaming Notes, made from hair."
- up to the climax, silence and release of teardrop. Just brilliant.