and ran to mama.
I grabbed her by her shoulders
and shook her as we stood face-to-face.
“Why, mama, why”?
Her face twisted in a hard smile
and she let out a bitter little laugh.
“Why not, you little fool”?
“But what about his fiddle”?
She stiffened at the mention of the word,
as if a switch had been thrown,
and peered intently into my face.
Suddenly she let go of my wrists
and left the room.
I thought she was done with me.
But just as suddenly she reappeared
with the fiddle in her hand
choking it
handling it as carelessly as if it
had been a chicken to be plucked for supper.
She stood in front of me
and stared at it.
I knew her
and expected that at any moment she would wheel about
and smash it against the wall.
Suddenly she thrust it at me.
“Just take it”, she hissed,
“And go”!