The Cellist

Poetry by | February 13, 2011

I wish I was your cello
in frenzy at the touch of your bow, stirring
as your erratic fingers pluck
my still but waiting strings, gasping
while you control your breathing
and dance madly
to the notes you were playing,
to the music that only a cello and the cellist can hear;
reverberating, convulsing, until the orchestra stops,
until the lights went off
that marks the end of our piece.

I’m listening.

Myan Declaro took up AB English Creative Writing in UP Mindanao and is currently working at Caraga State University.

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