Your rope frays to the sharp discord of
a new violinist,
and birds begin to soar.
You paint your melody
and weave your soul into
science-knitted skies.
Sing for me.
Fall to the end of your frayed
rope and sing
the newborn baby wail
the cheer of the father,
the sigh of the mother
the sneer of the devil.
Grip the knot tightly
and open on up.
Feel the pulse of the blood in your
feet as they flee for higher
ground
feel each nerve fire.
Your hope frays to the sharp discord
of a new violinist,
your hope frays to the sound.
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