Blue Grass and Violin

10 years since her last classical lesson.
She has decided to go native,
not to study the violin
but to make love to it
deconstruct its intentions
build it new
as part of herself
to caress the wood as a natural thing
recall the origins of Pernambuco, horse hair,
gut and steel,
tease out the inner scream
allow the music to take her
muss her hair
throw her against the wall until her eyes
roll back
until she takes it completely and for good.

The sound no longer emanates from the wood
the wind over the strings
the echo in the shadow of the wood
but directly from her body
a new kind of radiation
that under normal circumstances
defies detection, but she has
channeled it into her fingers
transformed it into an ache we can hear.

Published in Illya’s Honey, Spring 2003


~ by danielwrasmus on April 24, 2010.

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