Terzanelle at 4 a.m.

Beethoven’s Violin Concerto proceeds
like clockwork, movements trill and roll
in artifice. Nothing’s unkempt, nothing bleeds

that doesn’t feel, that lives without a soul.
Is beauty made more beautiful by pain
like clockwork movements trill and roll?

It’s simpler not to feel when you remain,
when someone else moves on, the world
is beauty, made more beautiful by pain

experienced, not held too tight, not curled
within the palm of night always mourning.
When someone else moves on the world

continues, always something new aborning.
Time rolls on, a symphony bypassing death
within the palm of night always mourning.

Time rolls on, a symphony bypassing death.
Faces come and go. You barely catch your breath.
Beethoven’s Violin Concerto proceeds
in artifice. Nothing’s unkempt, nothing bleeds.