Cracked Violins
Cracked Violins
-Come, work your magic-
Stagnate and freeze
wild meandering thoughts,
store them away behind locked
doors never to be freed again.
For what use are pleasures,
they eagerly unfold -
to a heart filled with pain.
Come, banish fiery Sunsets,
silence all bird song, then burn
loves troublesome bow,
remove flower sellers and,
from movie theaters, tear out
all their darkened back rows.
Trample a cracked violin
awaiting a gypsy’s caress and
exotic dinners for two.
Then remove park seats beneath
heavy blossomed trees with long
days spent admiring views.
Disincline my desire
of expectation and clarity,
expend all my wishes forthwith,
help me bury my past, fade these
old photographs that, with a
broken heart, I may live.
