Inside the Bass

As the concert began,
and the bass drew a long breath,
you thought I was sitting next to you—
but I had flown on stage
and crept
inside that giant instrument,
crawled through a sound hole,
huddled in the space within.

I wrapped myself inside
the wooden body of the bass
enfolded like a fetus,
tight-fisted with anticipation—
deeply breathing the smell of rosin
and feeling the friction
of bow against string.

This is where I chose to spend
my evening of music—
rocked into birth.

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