the double bass

it stands the way a tall person stands when they are tired of standing. it leans the smallest amount on the wainscot. the endpin is dug into the carpet at a habitual angle. nobody put it there; it placed itself there over many returnings.

it is too large to be moved gracefully. it goes down stairs only sideways and only with two people. the body has been varnished four times, the last time in the wrong colour. the spruce top has the long honest crack of any spruce top old enough to have weather. the bridge stands a fraction crooked.

the last player was a stooped man with broad hands. he played in the orchestra at the town hall and rehearsed here twice a week. he died one november. afterwards a young cousin tried it for a winter and gave up because she could not reach the lowest c. it now does what large instruments do when alone — it lends its body to the room's humming and adds a long low note that no one quite hears.

field-note: dust along the upper shoulder; a pale ring on the floor where the endpin has worn the carpet.

the violin · rumor · chime · footstep · a score