Violin Concerto


She soars through the violin:
swaying, bowing;  strings
undercutting low, shimmering
high;  communicates emotion
from Prokofiev, the concerto.
The second movement punctuated
and melodic washes over the
normal day of the audience,
pushes existence into artistic
slant, a hypnotic pull – casting.
The soloist knows the magic
– wields the wand –
Devil’s instrument — sensuous.
All the demons come out
of hiding to cavort in the
last movement; everyone dances,
swoons.  The theater pounds,
the swelling applause carries the spell
through the exits into the quiet streets.