The Luthier

by Katiebird Yates

the luthier

checks

the obituaries

for fresh flesh

 

new bones and

taught skin

sound the best

 

at night

he gathers

his tools

packs his sled

 

spools of thread

copper strings,

tuning pegs,

a knife to slice

their throats,

a splint to stiffen

their legs

 

in cemetery silence

he sneaks

sidling and slipping

until he finds

soft soil

 

his shovel

cracks

the coffin

 

a drumbeat

on a dead

doorway

 

he feels

a little

like a robin

when it pulls

the stubborn worm

from its home

 

he fishes and fights

he flirts and finesses

convincing the corpse

to come to the surface

 

the luthier undresses

caresses and stretches

sucks and staples

saws and scratches

 

he bends their bodies

contorts and creases

cuts and plucks

rearranging the pieces

 

he makes

them

his instruments

guitars

and violins

 

empty bodies

filled with

musical

life

again

Katiebird Yates is a Syracuse-born swamp witch and newly appointed queen of the toad garden, living in South Florida with her husband and two wild dogs.

Photo credit: Josh via Flickr, All Creative Commons

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s