Embracing your cello, you take up less space
Than the hollow-boned spruce, bow firm and melodic,
Your hair falling out
All over the strings.

Happy concertos hang on the rafters
Just as you yearned for yourself
A less-permanent proxy for you;
Unbodied.
Watching and smiling,
The wooden beams modelling
What we pine for, and though you decline
A ticket to the theater,
Maybe it's possible you can
Find laughter here on the ground-

Because it's funny, like we say all the time
We can't even feed ourselves
How were you supposed to feed the baby?
And maybe it was rape,
But how pure were you to begin with?
You still love him, and
You can't undo that like
He undid you.

It's becoming clearer to me these days
That I won't see you again
Just as I said
Though you didn't really believe that,
It hurts when you're wrong.
Doesn't it?


So carve your arm up, I love you,
I dare you.
And callous your
Slashed-up skin
Because maybe it's not so flawed
Because wrong can be measured in degrees
Like the cold of your balding forehead
Against the fire in your belly.