i.m. Baris Yazgi
Reports said you were found
Clutching the case
Containing your instrument as well
As music of your own composition.
You knew what it was to place
Faith in a hollow wooden vessel,
Carried on waves, lilting in harmonic motion,
Scales like water running through your fingers.
I think of Arion of Lesbos, and his harp,
Saved by a dolphin in the legend;
Of accidentals, flat and sharp,
Of pitch, and yaw. I think of the deep sound,
Of the bow rolling across arpeggios,
No bridge but the violin’s bridge.
