Across the piazza a violinist is playing for coins,
playing as if to cover the cough of the moon,
as if he were tending the wound of some distant star.
This is a good time to toast your love. You may mention
the uncut meadow, the haystacks waiting to take shape,
how all the roads to the past have been closed,
how each night she tightens around you with the dark.
— Richard Jackson, from “The Italian Phrase Book,” Richard Jackson Greatest Hits: 1980-2004 (Pudding House Publications, 2004)