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Some of the Things that Happen Around Us
By Holly Day
The violinist folds himself into his case, tucks his wings
in carefully, folds his arms across his chest, sleeps.
Beside his case is a smaller case, with a handle, and in it
his violin also rests, perhaps dreaming of new strings.
There is no need for furniture in this house. Everything sits or sleeps
in a case or a cage. The shelves are filled with kennels containing
sleeping cats and dogs, covered birdcages of canaries and finches
parrots who think they’re in charge. Even the unnecessary couch is covered
encased in clear plastic, as if being preserved for freshness
as though some day, the violinist might have company
and they will want something brand new to sit on.
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