On Playing the Habeneck Strad
poem by Guy GalloCopyright 2000 by Guy Gallo. Used with permission.
I was not prepared
I expected terror —
Lineage bearing down —
To cramp my hand.
Yes, I dropped it over and over
For a second, imagined splinters
About my feet. I didn't clutch.
It wouldn't let me.
Then it was there, lodged
On collarbone, and so light
As if Berlioz' ghost had taken
Some fraction of the weight.
How long, I wondered,
Since this tender conglomeration
Of wood and physics
Had suffered so rank a beginner
Surely there was once a child
Or a fat aristocrat
Or an awkward curator. And
Now there was me.
I played, so badly, and still
It thrilled even to my touch,
Inviting, amused, clear-toned
Smilingly unforgiving.
October, 2000
Yes. This is exactly how it feels to hold, to play a legend. Thank you, Guy.
