Nola Accili





the snow has melted just enough

to swim us to the edge

pines as slippery as the sun

real downward

your voice erupts in timbrel waves

across the gaps the chords sound distant

my fingers scatter orange

more sober than yesterday

a thousand gibbons laughed me

out of their barrels caught in a circuit of glass

a violin snapped with septic rain

your eyes open I take the strings

they are as fresh as lichen

growing on this stone