POETRY PAGE FIVE
COLUMN NINETY-FOUR, JULY 1, 2003
(Copyright © 2003 The Blacklisted Journalist)
WHAT’S ALL THIS JAZZ?
Coming late to
sex and jazz,
taking nothing for granted / taking everything...
the cry of trumpets, growl of sax;
in her tossed underwear, the clarinet’s wail.
there are no wrong movements.
The man she faces, the man making all
this possible, hitting those spots
hear the sound of her movements;
just wants to get off
/ after work, if
there was any work, maybe hears
a car horn or sanitation truck...
about her unexpected gig,
who she’s jamming with in the dark.
Or really care. He’s tired, hungry.
But this is her
night. Her turn.
Whole body jumping, a 40’s jazz joint
she’s never been in ##
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