She squeezes my hand tightly-
the wetness makes me squirm.
She cannot talk, breathes shallowly.
Bemused, I wait for the unraveling.
He strolls on stage, claiming the space.
I drink his scent of oil and nectar, stunned;
He positions his finger at the base,
the other hand on the stem.
With a gasp, his first note plunges
into my secret hollow.
Threadbare at the end, I cry:
Forget her, pluck my brains out.