A Spiccato Dark

Lana Bella


Somewhere, a rustle of music held
traces of an applause fading. Like
a lit wick in wind, you reached back,
side-stroked the rhythms only to lose
them five notes down. Ballads of black-
robed shoes set stage for the spiccato
dark, pantyhosed feet itched to ease
in stinging nettle bath. You picked up
a key and skipped it over sober wisps
of light, pale-skinned smooth, against
the throwing shade jerking the air like
a stone. Retinas tautened with a burst
of sinuous semaphore, weeping through
that space with silence dressed you in
costume, and your fingertips still ached
to claim Schubert’s Arpeggione Sonata
down the spine of your rusted red cello.


lana-bellaLana Bella is an author of two chapbooks, Under My Dark (Crisis Chronicles Press, 2016) and Adagio (Finishing Line Press, forthcoming). Her poetry and fiction have appeared in over 300 journals, including 2River, California Quarterly, Chiron Review, and Columbia Journal. She’s been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.




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