the bassist
Our 6th Married Valentine

Suppose I am an upright bass.

Then you will be my base, feet

firm, a little broader than your broad shoulders.

Your fingers play, pluck, linger,

Slip, slide, and mesmerize all

Who see and hear us.

They may miss what I know:

Your steady thumb that runs

Up the back of my neck.

 

You bring from my hollow wooden form,

My skin and bones,

My warm veneer,

True and honest tones that resonate

Clear, the heart of a chord.

 

And when we lean into one another

My curves look more like a woman

While you seem more the man.

 

Though when you lay me down to rest still

I stomach silent air and slip out of tune.

And you become just a guy at the bar sipping whiskey,

Not the bassist who thrilled spines.

 

But we are not alone. As I rest

Against your chest, you enclose me,

Bow slowly over my body

And we hold a low, euphonious note

That sounds in round rings of forever.

 

Britt Kaufmann will share her 9th married Valentine’s Day with her husband this year. (She hopes, against reason and history, he remembers to do something sweet.) They live in Yancey County with their three young children.