The violin has wings.
It is I who must use my hands.
The violin has a voice.
I am silence in the great hall.
The violin has a heart, a wild heart.
When I press its small body to me
my heart stops,
and I bow.
-Merry Speece,
“What a cache of treasures this collection is, what a cache of jewels. […] All are reminders of what the best, briefest poems can do: give back the world to us, as it passes, in the mirror of a few well-chosen words.”
-Cecilia Woloch
Other poems from Bigger Than They Appear:
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