Tempo
In Mr Montano's room
I learned the violin.
Holding the bow,
pressing taut hair
against the string.
The sound should be
mahogany.
My mother hears the tune
chase my eyes
across the staves
as she waits outside.
I left the quavers
in the air,
like dust or seconds
or the silent tick
of an unwound clock
when the door is locked
and Mr Montano
takes tea and beef kailan
at the tennis club.
The ball skims
back and forth
across the net,
thock thock
thock.
Chris Hardy has travelled widely but now lives in Sussex. His poems have been published in Acumen, Raceme, Stand; The North; The Rialto; Poetry Salzburg Review; Poetry Review, the Blue Nib and many other places. He is also in LiTTLe MACHiNe, performing settings of poems at literary events. His fourth collection, Sunshine At The End Of The World, was published by Indigo Dreams.