Poetry By Kristin Gustafson

       Nenad Stojkovic CC




String Theory 

The first time I heard my best friend play viola, I cried.

How strange it is to know someone in one context, but not another,
how a housecat knows a lark only for her flesh, and not her song. 

I watched as shaky fingers turned suddenly sure on strings, 
vibrating only with intention. 

He told me about his anxiety disorder after we graduated from high school. 
I can’t remember if he knew about mine, 

if he knew that I played practiced bowing with a razor in hand, 
that there was a reason I covered my wrists. 

I can’t remember if I ever told him I loved him. If I told him 
that our after-school practice sessions were the (high)light of my week. 

That his metronome kept my pulse in time. 

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Kristin Gustafson is a poet and editor from Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Her work can be found in Contemporary Verse 2, Progenitor Art and Literary Journal, Meniscus Literary Journal, Something Involving A Mailbox!, and various other journals.