How
To Read A Poem
by
Sharon H. Nelson
copyright
Sharon H. Nelson
Language
like a
cello
is an instrument
passed
from hand
to hand,
from body
to body,
marked
with use;
fingers
leave
their marks
on wood,
a particular
gloss,
an elegant
sheen,
a wearing
thin
where bodies
rub
against
each other
over years,
through
centuries.
The mind,
flexible
as catgut,
applies
energy
to the
tension in a string
as both
are stretched
towards
resonance,
bodies
combined
by each
stroke of a bow,
each finger's
touch;
cello and
cellist paired
to voice
a text.
We stretch
ourselves
to the
body of language,
with the
body of language;
each separate
text
a particular
notation
in search
of voice,
in search
of resonance,
each sound
a choice
between
warmth and conflagration.
When your
eyes touch
the body
of a text,
touch gently,
move your
mouth
with gentleness,
your tongue
lightly
on this
body,
another
incarnation
of the
same old and battered body
poets struggle
to restring,
resuscitate,
revive.
Without
respect
and cherishing
no instrument
is kept
alive.
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