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Noted Silence MAG
fingers scampering along
the edge of the crimsom-shaded shell
I feel for the rusted zipper
and the corroded clasps cocooned beneath
My quick breath
sends irregular, soft currents
toward the fringed seams
that quiver in return
Grasping the hinged cover
I swing it upward
it sits quietly and undisturbed
seasoned by stagnant air and
masked by a thin, viscous layer of rosin
The wooden figure
is accompanied by a
loosened bow, swaying
from its disassembled cradle
removing it
I trace the nicked contour
and pluck the
untuned strings
The chin rest is cold
perched upon my shoulder
The bow
too light to dance
Bringing my arm around
I rest the horse hair between the
fingerboard and bridge
And slowly drag it away
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Now Cinderella don't you go to sleep, it's such a bitter form of refuge, oh don't you know the kingdom's under siege, and everbody needs you. - The Killers