Suffering Angel

The word violin

wrapped up in her name

as within a cocoon

Silk

She could tell you her life’s story

and make it sound

so painfully raw

you wanted to inhabit it

to feel her talent in your veins

She knew Lenny

well enough

to call him that

and played under his

conduction

like a bee

following a bat

Her stinging lack of diplomacy

telling me

“You’ll never play like that”

She was a gorgeous

sufferer

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