The Second Fiddle Speaks Out

The Second Fiddle Speaks Out

The fiddle rests lightly,

cradled under my chin,

resting on my neck and skin.

I draw the bow

and the vibration in the bow

vibrates the string,

and the string, the wood of the fiddle,

and the wood, my neck.

We vibrate.

We’re hummin’ the same tune.

Before the concert,

the maestro looked at me.

I heard them speak,

but the words tripped

on their way through my ear.

What I heard was something

else, but

it was more wonderful

just the same.

So that’s what I played.

Everyone looked on in amazement.

Mark Bohrer
November 2015 Andover, Mass.