My father tried to warn me
Once your soul found form
In a wooden body
It would never be free again.
Do not learn an instrument
Anything hollow with strings
Do not fill its cavity with
The abundance of your waters
It is an unquenchable thirst
A language without words
Writing more histories than
Any papyrus, tablet, ink;
At dawn, he will writhe inside you
A mute symphony, welling within
Crystallising as notes you swallow:
Gastric memories, digested by time.
At noon she will draw out your thoughts
Like your bow, elegaic and unforgiving
Carving more emotions than
Moons, oceans and their swelling lips.
At midnight they will wind and unwind
These pegs that hold your heart together
Even the stars will become a trite memory.
My father’s strings were broken before mine
He warned me, too late:
Once you surrender your heartstrings
To the gut strings taut against your belly
You will never be able to
Move without strings attached again.