The Recital

First half of the recital
Twinkle twinkle Repeats
Varying levels of skill
From the scratchiest scratch
To the boldest tone
Composers names
In my mind and this scratchiest scratch
Of a performance dress
Tights constricting me in to
A gilded sausage
In the meantime:
feel like hours passed
piano I’d practiced
Lost halfway through the song
A blank stare
A racing heart
A fast pace off the stage
Too much time spent
Learning the composers names
Years pass
The names come easier
I stop less halfway through
And when I do
I pretend like it was on purpose
Rather than running away
I sit In my scratchy dress
I still hate tights
I wonder what it’s like to play
Twinkle twinkle with a bow
Great grandfather
The traveling fiddle player
A gypsy in his time
Letters home to his daughter
In my hand
Music beautifully notated,
staves by hand
his violin, unstrung, fading velvet,
sits high
I wonder what it’s like
To make it sing
More years
Holiday, light and laughter
A violin, strung and delicate velvet
Resin and bow
Set beneath deep blue satin
And I set about to play
Variations of
Twinkle twinkle
Until it no longer scratches
As much as an itchy recital dress
As I realize I am finally, at 30,
In the first half of the recital.


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5 responses to “The Recital

  1. del crowe

    very cool Alley

  2. Pingback: Allison Crowe » Blog Archive » The Recital

  3. kate taylor

    aw, love it! i like the symmetry of the poem and it’s such a sweet story.
    how is it sounding now?
    this is one of the girls that came up to NYC a couple times by the way.
    it’s funny; those white shells are starting to biodegrade.
    hope you’re well!
    ps your writing is really funny. not this one, of course, but the others!
    & i’m glad u like to take pictures of your food, too.

  4. Lovely words…Being a musician I can’t agree more! Itchy recital dress :)

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