top of page
APASSIONATO
by philip metres
​
Don’t mistake his
leaning back
for swooning—
he offers himself
the privilege
of being
played—
the pleasure
of another
paying him
with playing—
still he has
no head and arms
so she must be
the head & arms—
she worries the strings
to set his voice
to tremble—as if
she’s drawn
to draw
back & forth
along his body—
as if she were
the instrument
of the song
& not him—
O frantic marionette—
alive as long as he’s
held & pulled—
plucked & stroked—
bottom of page