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Chris Hardy: a poem


In Mr Montano's room

I learned the violin.

Holding the bow,

pressing taut hair

against the string.

The sound should be


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


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.

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