Violin Girl
By Roopa, age 17, California
I've seen treble clefsin her rosemilk hair
and carved onto her
thighs there are g chords
of lullabies,
and hummingbirds perch
on nearby boughs to catch
harmony on their wings.
On the bridge of her lips are
wood-lines that rearrange
storms into symphonies
so that on winter nights
when gales break through
her window
and split her instrument into pieces,
she'll close her eyes poco a poco
and pull folded notes from her tongue.
I swear she's from heaven
because only angels can play
broken violins this beautifully
and calm this kind of wind.