by Jennifer van Alstyne
CD318 has multi-sized strings which crisscross, overlapping gold to bronze. Felted hammers, white hammers, blue-covered hammers lift & fall – a direct cause & effect encased in hardwood. Open, sound reverberates through empty hall, but for the lone man in row five. He stares at his lover, her shine & timbre, memorizes each line & grain. Her whiteness. Her grandeur. But he will no longer touch her, will not sigh at her frame. Tempted.
This poem originally appeared in COG in 2016
