space is where all the good stuff is happening
dry the lips on the mouthpiece,
dry the summer –
tender the fingers on the string.
the drum has no skin
yet the song its beat –
we still sing.
(a zeze, a six stringed two necked instrument.)
its necks are infested with worms,
eating away the insides of the wood,
producing small heaps of dust on the ground
where it leans against the wall.
the musician plays,
while the neck is disappearing under his hands.
eventually, it will break under the pull of the strings,
maybe even in the middle of a tune.
but, at this moment, we can still hear the musician play.