Violins

Violins plucking strings of horsehair, satin ribbons violet violate a dark foresaken world like a beautiful dream romance unravels the sweet pain comes undone then those wild horses dance macabre neck-to-neck racing all the way home for want of a better country, these beautiful creatures limbs racing all lathered opening wide and unconquered plunder new territory in the red seeded seat royally the hidden thing beats like a machine underneath the skin a ripe juicy red apple no cherry pip feeds the mind of marquis de john donne and dorian's sybil vane gone all wrong Violins the shape of a woman the music inside her intense jungle prowls around like an exotic soft pawed purring black leopard something wicked or wonderful in the garden this way it comes the soft satin that binds metaphoric minds like wrists the will to resist comes undone something wicked or wonderful in the garden dappled in shadow shining and hidden like a solitairy secret like a morning star this way, it comes Candide Diderot. ‘24