Bent over, her hands gripping her ankles,
She is almost the shape of an ornate harp
Except he uses part of her frame
As his own little rage-reducing drum
And strikes it again and again
As though performing the Rite of Spring.
But each time he does, he catches his hand
On some of the strings and they play notes
Which shake the whole instrument
Leading to the tiniest cracks
In the cedar wood and an imperceptible
Unravelling of some of the nylon strings.
Throughout her life, she re-enacts that duet,
As a one-man-band or with others playing
The drum and harp; her strings held in place
From that one performance,
Ever so slightly out of tune.
LatinosUSA 
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