Saturday, 22 September 2018

the jazz player

the jazz player

his medley of buttered lemon juice
teases my salivary glands;
trumpeting, eyes closed,
in a lachrymose blur;
my heart surrenders,
deep in my throat;
i mouth the words
to a room in full sway,
standing in an ovation
for the jazz player,
who has done us,
once again.

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