John Samuel Tieman: Variations
I spent all week revising a poem
that didn’t work
it was like trying to make a fire
.
out of wet wood and sand
like trying to graft a vein
from my mother’s arm
.
all to no avail until I heard the history
of the Huberman Stradivarius
how it was stolen and painted
.
with shoe polish to hide it
so the thief could play it in public
how someone once used that violin
.
as an ashtray
the thief on his deathbed repented
and the instrument was restored
.
tonight in a symphony hall I’ve known
since I was a boy I heard
Joshua Bell play the Bruch G minor
.
concerto on that very Stradivarius
I searched for a word as nimble
as the allegro – milkweed or eyelid
.
cadenza or thread – a word to make
me naked as a woman in labor
arrogant as a November rain
.
but to no avail because tonight
as I write this poem
and throw away that draft
.
this is all I know this week of art
a Stradivarius used as an ashtray
an adagio a thief once loved
Copyright 2019 John Samuel Tieman
