Song of the Double Bass

by Jo Ann Baldinger

Only after the others have packed up and gone
only after silence clarifies across the empty stage
and softens the velvet cushions; it’s only then

he lifts me off my side onto my tail-pin,
leans me against his hip, supports my long neck,
and tilts his own neck toward my sloping shoulder

for I am lighter than I look, and filled with air.
His chest cradles me, another breathing box
filled with air. This is the holy time, before

the song begins. Only then does he lift the bow
and turn toward me, and charm the song that rises
from the sea bottom of my belly

and finds its shapes in my hollow curves.
Drum beat, heart beat, dark breath,
music such as drowning sailors might hear.