Mozart, at Vienna’s Burgtheater,
touches delicate keys, his andante
describing Constanze:
gracious lover
and new wife, her deep eyes, delicate scent,
ebon hair flowing over his moist face
as their bare flesh rests after vast passion.
In the audience, Leopold—son’s grace
lost to him—critique’s Constanze’s fashion,
dwells on the concert’s take. He’ll later speak
of gulden rather than genius. Wolfie’s
bride caresses each note, recalls each peak
breath in bed, every gentle word. She feels
her husband’s fingers unfold each layer,
sensing his dream phrases as joyous prayer.
Roger Armbrust
October 28, 2014
