Tide

The violin is propped against the wall
silent and hoping
to feel soft fingers
dance across its strings
again

The dark wood was
left like an open wound
bleeding and needing repair

I feel my back bend
mimicking the violin's
hunched form

I just want to feel the
solid wall against my
chaotic parts

It feels like I might
fall a thousand feet into water
wading in the froth
and turning like a stick

under water
the current would
move my hands,
my legs
like a marionette

While I'd think
what is this
tide that pulls me
and why