Nenad Stojkovic CC
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.
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.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.