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. 


Artwork by: Maria Wilk