how I learned to play the violin

 
 
it was the sounds.   sounds before the words.

it was her voice in the hollows inside the wood.

then it was a tree.   she grew.   grew into me.

she rested a hand on my shoulder.   like Sun does.

radiant gravity, it moved through limbs,
      came to rest in my hands.

               a violin.
 
 
then this, my remembering.   the tall steps

standing watch in front of an unlocked door.

that door where I sat and cried.   sad word here.

that was the where I learned about mass

like the tug of earth, or my own weight

onto the now broken new model balsa
     wood plane.   and I cried.
 
 
like when I learned standing atop a tricycle
to climb a tree, lets you meet gravity more
     personally.   wheels do what wheels do.
 
 
she held me inside a gentle bowl, whispering.
     her name was Francis.
but that was another day, another knee.
 
 
besides, we were talking about violins.
 
 
 
 
 

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