Warming up for The Planets by Holst

by Georgina Menasche-Standen

A colourless chasm yawns deep
notes, the underbelly of a well-tongued
tune. Coarse skin rubs
tarnished keys, unlocking
melodic breaths. Waves swim
away from the concave walls
of a silent auditorium. New
notes appear from
the audience;
Bows are raised
with quivering strings; Diana rallies
for the release. Taut
skin is pummelled
by velveteen rocks, its cries
quickly hushed by caressing
hand. The mute order for quiet rings
out, and a story of no words