Tendrils of a violin solo
lure me to the river-bank,
to a bench above the water,
solitary on the brink.
Shafts of light obliquely span
my shoulders, tenuously reaching
for the current's braided tendons,
bridged by vocal chords of strings.
Echelons and skeins of notes
fibrillate and flow and float;
peremptory, a phone shrills a command,
the music falters, chokes.
I notice that the rigid planks
are hard as bare, unscripted staves;
the moment dissipates like smoke -
I rise, released to take my stroll.
Violin at dusk
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106032802131
Свидетельство о публикации №106032802131
Рецензии
I feel sad when the moment dissipates like smoke.
What a pity!
Галина Тальнова 18.04.2006 13:47 • Заявить о нарушении
What a pity!
Галина Тальнова 18.04.2006 13:47 • Заявить о нарушении
Ah yes, but when the moment returns to inhabit the poem, it is not lost...
Jena Woodhouse 20.04.2006 06:46 Заявить о нарушении
Jena Woodhouse 20.04.2006 06:46 Заявить о нарушении