Page 16 - Contrast1977Novemberv21n1
P. 16
Under the saxophonist's fingers
Golden keys ripple
Dancing in the smoke
This horn is too distended
To be solid,
Too vibrant
To be molten- _
It pulls another fold
Into the player's face;
another shadow
Into the choppy pool
Blood jams the veins in his neck
like flaming freigh~ trains
His unfocused eyes
. tell us he can't escape
Any more than the horn
Could jump out of his hands
He pauses to breathe
smiling at us
With blOOdshot eyes
Then falls again into his dance
Haloed by cigarette SlOOke
30b KeZZy
