Tongue Lyre

Cleaning Out the Lyre

23 Cleaning Out the Lyre Pour fifteen grains of rice into your hand and guide the ice-white, jumping chips to the face of your lyre, then to the cheekbone band, a silhouette. Then in the f-hole lace— yes, inside, the lining of willow-wood—clean, clean rice. The dust’s loose. The voice of rain moves the trees that bow to the silver-green lake where a horse and cart’s loaded with chains to secure the carp along the river road and past the shop where Jean Baptiste’s artists plane the willow and sand the maple good for ribs. Some unbraid white horsehair with mist they spit, and a bone comb. Then they stretch, unwrapping bread and cheese over a sketch. ...