Watching Rachel Barton Pine Play her Viola D'amore
Amber Cecile Brodie November 16, 2013 The stage reaches out in great slabs of wood as she stands perfectly at the center, her yellow hair curling against the wooden instrument tucked under her chin, even her chiffon dress folds over like flecks of gold in water. I imagine her left leg underneath the skirt as she adjusts her weight mid measure. In all my research I cannot find what it is made of, but something in me believes it is also wood. Perhaps the same type as the resilient violin that trapped her between two metal train doors and dragged her body down the tracks, knotted her left leg and split her right knee. Yet, she stands erect, swaying between her right elbow making halos of sound, and her left fingers tapping the fingerboard, speaking to the sympathetic strings beneath, which whisper tones all the way to me at the back of the hall. So I imagine her leg carved like her viola: two flaming swords snaking up to the blinded cupid on her scroll, because there are only thirty known people in the world who can play music from this instrument, and she would be the only one made out of the material that she rests against her hip, as she takes a bow. |
About the author:
Amber Cecile Brodie received her MFA in Creative Writing at Fresno State University and recently moved to Sonoma County, California. Her poetry has been featured in Mud Season, Glassworks, Foothill: a Journal of Poetry, and others. Amber's passions include playing her violin, making poetry, and teaching. |