by Richard Fein

This prestidigitator of string and bow,
this vivacious Vivaldi violinist,
so captivating---she
attired in a flowing blue gown,
and powdered blue high heels,
with head bedecked with a sparkling blue-white tiara,
being so immaculate of skin,
and of course with eyes blue to the hyperbole;
she
on center stage,
this cynosure of aesthetic devotion,
this paradigm of pulchritude,
this radiant star of a dark concert hall,
with her head tilted as if cradled on a lover's shoulder,
for in love she was, as I with her,
(this seductress of sound)
both she and I enraptured
by the liquid craft of her long thin fingers
that guided the harmonious friction

twixt the ripped out viscera of dead sheep
and the sheared hair from the tail of a horse's ass.

About the author:  Richard Fein has been published in many magazines and e-zines, including: Birmingham Poetry Review, Droplet Journal, Zuzu's Petals, Touchstone, Windsor Review, Maverick, Sonoma Mandala Literary Review, Ellipsis, Roanoke Review, and El Dorado Poetry Review.

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© Copyright 1998 by Richard Fein