For a Young Turkish Violinist, Drowned on the Aegean Crossing (April 24, 2017)
Reports said you were found
Clutching the case
Containing your instrument as well
As music of your own composition.
You knew what it was to place
Faith in a hollow wooden vessel,
Carried on waves, lilting in harmonic motion,
Scaled like water running through your fingers.
I think of Arion of Lesbos, and his harp,
Saved by a dolphin in the legend;
Of accidentals, flat and sharp.
Of pitch, and yaw. I think of the deep sound,
Of the bow rolling across arpeggios,
No bridge but the violin’s bridge.