I dreamt I had a cello
between my knees,
a low thrumming
beneath my fingers,
rolling through my spine.
The song was of trembling touch
on a dark-winged night.
I played by waning moon,
words slipping
from a soft place inside.
I dreamt I had a cello
between my knees,
a low thrumming
beneath my fingers,
rolling through my spine.
The song was of trembling touch
on a dark-winged night.
I played by waning moon,
words slipping
from a soft place inside.