Violin and Bow on Couch

We contemplate
the violin again –
its onerous familiar

impasse and sadistically
seductive lure: it lies,
un-reassured,

upon the couch, all
involuted curve and line,
as if it were a verb

whose animating spine
was inaccessible to
any lexicon or grammar

to which I, today, at any rate,
would seem to be inclined.
I’d like to take a hammer –

and – well, no.
Instead, we’ll contemplate
the bow. Tonight I am

to lead a section
of first violins
in Mozart: bounce

and sway – allay
all fear: let jaunty
little flicks and shoots

and arabesques
befriend a guest conductor’s
hopeful ear. Oh dear.

.