Drum
Apr 14th, 2016 by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
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There is one bright dancer among them. Her hands trace the music onto air. The “U” of her hips sways, telling bedroom stories. Melodies float her toward the youngest doumbek player, barely bearded.
She bends to him, smiling, flirting even, to the ululating tongues of all her watching sisters but as the hafla pauses to draw a collective breath, I see the truth: her focus is not the boy drummer. She shines for the pulled-skin drum.
An elderly man leans near me. “It is all that remains of her husband.”
“He played?” I am confused.
He shrugs. “He had enemies.”
From Guest Contributor Laura Lovic-Lindsay
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