by Millicent Accardi
We amuse ourselves through the absurd
March forest, comical and childish,
dupes in this quarantine of looking
for breadcrumbs, a pathway out.
Set aside on a fool’s errand, seven times
funny and infantile, the dance of
the woods creating stockpiles of leaves,
like court hesitators we wash tree bark
And dance together, alone,
gullible and lighthearted. We pretend
this is an elongated day or game of Head’s Up 7-up,
a cycle of twenty four hours of mockery
and nonsense. A fool’s errand.
We are practical jokers,
pickling radishes and purple cabbage, steeping apple
cider vinegar in warm water.
We watch too much bad television like Tiger King
and Love is Blind. Tomfoolery abounds and we
yell Rabbit, Rabbit when we wake
up in the morning, the cause of everything.
Millicent Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, is the author of two poetry books, most recently Only More So (Salmon Poetry Ireland). Her awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), Fulbright, CantoMundo, California Arts Council, The Corporation of Yaddo, Fundação Luso-Americana, and Barbara Deming Foundation, “Money for Women.” Recent work in New American Writing, The Journal, Laurel Review and Another Chicago Magazine.