Poetry — 18 December 2014

A poem by Madhuri.

These things stuck out on you:
your quiff, your nose, your chin,
your saxophone;
your long long just-square-tipped
just-turned-up-toed shoes –

These things were balled up:
your biceps, your hulked-up
hands (tasting the keys like a crab
dancing close upon the sand)
and
your up-there black-jeans bottom –

Saxo

These things were wide open:
your grin, your legs,
stepping and tipping as your saxophone
piped and tore up to the lava eaves
your peedly-woodly
bass-tremulo
sound

Oh how you grinned, I saw the side-slice of it,
like teeth-melon, biting cheshire-cat pleasure,
oh pleasure,
you tall ball-shouldered black-t-shirted cat-hipped
sonofagun

A poem by Madhuri

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