qarrtsiluni

by Mark W. Kidd

Whirling sweetheart,
flash of color on the wheel —

violins and fittings,
tailpieces, pegs, chinrests, bridges and bows,
softly: “how like you this?” in summer cotton

tiny wires
crackling   braided   taut

Honey moons,
her toes curl around the stone,
kick —

the man is stooped,
sore arms full of marigolds

our guests check out,
chaise lounge propped
against eucalyptus:
red gum sap, the tiny cut.

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Mark W. Kidd lives at the base of Pine Mountain in East Kentucky, where he pursues broad interests in community media, regional arts, social justice, and the natural and built environments. His poems have appeared in Still, the Clinch Mountain Review, and the Crowd issue of qarrtsiluni.