Millicent Borges Accardi
Glass Tuning Fork
Started by a line in “Saguaro,” Eduardo C. Corral
It’s a game this wanting
you to be wrong, like winding
up for a hard-hitting back hand,
almost too easy the placement
of the challenge backs up to
the corner of the room, and, no,
this is not a poem. This is about
keeping one’s word, about lessoning
the meaning of crying “Not wolf”
but coyote as the animal barrels
into the canyon air, in one fell
howl that says hunger and means
No, forever No. This is not how
I want to be trying, This is how
I want to be moving on and opening
up to that great missive I inside
the sky of you, where change
is possible, even when I know otherwise,
where Ventura Blvd turns
into dirt Mulholland and makes a fork
in the road, bending like a musical
note finding its range, a tone that we have
to match to turn, to meet, to when
we want to join in on the chord
together, us, alone and fat inside
the note, on pitch when we
want to be and on time with
the key signature that tells us
clearly what sharps and flats are
meant to be and what survival
is all about before we sing it.
Started by a line in “Saguaro,” Eduardo C. Corral
It’s a game this wanting
you to be wrong, like winding
up for a hard-hitting back hand,
almost too easy the placement
of the challenge backs up to
the corner of the room, and, no,
this is not a poem. This is about
keeping one’s word, about lessoning
the meaning of crying “Not wolf”
but coyote as the animal barrels
into the canyon air, in one fell
howl that says hunger and means
No, forever No. This is not how
I want to be trying, This is how
I want to be moving on and opening
up to that great missive I inside
the sky of you, where change
is possible, even when I know otherwise,
where Ventura Blvd turns
into dirt Mulholland and makes a fork
in the road, bending like a musical
note finding its range, a tone that we have
to match to turn, to meet, to when
we want to join in on the chord
together, us, alone and fat inside
the note, on pitch when we
want to be and on time with
the key signature that tells us
clearly what sharps and flats are
meant to be and what survival
is all about before we sing it.
--
Millicent Borges Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, has four poetry collections including Quarantine Highway (FlowerSong). Among her awards are fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, California Arts Council, CantoMundo, Fulbright, and The Foundation for Contemporary Arts NYC (Covid grant). She lives in the hippie-arts community of Topanga, CA.
Millicent Borges Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, has four poetry collections including Quarantine Highway (FlowerSong). Among her awards are fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, California Arts Council, CantoMundo, Fulbright, and The Foundation for Contemporary Arts NYC (Covid grant). She lives in the hippie-arts community of Topanga, CA.