Movement
by Evan Harrison
Someone found animalia a bursting tree from which to gather— thus horsehairs dragged across catgut births the cavern lows of Bach’s Cello Suite No. 2 in D Minor, Sarbande and, having descended, I find the beasts muted in fright or awe, their quietness leaving no absence, and so no solace— just deep recognition of my separateness, unparticular, a note we must all hear, leave the stereo playing for a dark room and step outside to think of things alive, intact.