Breathing into a magnolia sweet evening
a cello weeps from an apartment;
late persistent summer clouds
flatten under an orange-blue horizon.
The air divides as the sound walks over
tired curtains and past yellow chipped paint,
descending to an alley absent of life,
garbage cans and locked back doors.
A hallway fills with music like an incoming
full moon tide,
wetting cracked tiles and stained walls.
For a moment the city releases from loss
as the strings from the cello
bridge us to a place of