PLAYING STRAVINSY

Putting my violin
putting on rosin
with wonder
for the Stravinsky Concerto
in D under my chin
at the age of fifteen
here I am in denim's
short pants
in moments of concentration
and rare rants of intensity
in a foreign city
to share these strings
with an audience
I do not know
except for my great aunt
who brings her nephew
just barely awake
a vanilla milk shake
for energy
and pulls down my shirt
into my pants
the flood floods
into orchestra pit
hearing the crowd's clamor
at the tall
white bearded conductor
on the podium
as the audience's hands
are raised in a continuum
of muffled applause
in the midwinter recital
not knowing what
good will happen
in the concert hall
as suddenly a poetry line
from Akhmatova in Russian
seeps into my mind
as I now could play
Stravinsky blind.