if only i was e. e. cummings

Give to the bow and the string
The one the man plays softly,
Terribly.
Let the warm tension
Of horse hair
e a s e
you
down
Until you breathe

at a different rate

Slo-w eyes rise
To cloudy/gray/wet/somber
To ceilings speckled/sweaty/neat

Arpeggio of emotion
Confus i o n
Climb the scale
tightenthestring
Pluck
a
Note
So high
that
When the measure arrives
The final note
The epitome of climax
Shows its twisted face

it

b s
r k
e a

Wooden beast cast into splinters

Neck separates from Head.

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(word/blogger sucks -- wouldn't let me keep a lot of the formatting i had; ex. "breaks" should be spaced out like an inverted pyramid)