Soul comfort for winter nights like this mellow melancholy straining
against the body, one ear cranked to subtle charms
Charlie Parker plays. Beautiful bean curd skin unwraps fingers
over brass fusion of blue jazz, when in spring everything happened.
Death walked among the blossoms,
lambs shook on bent legs and legendary B B King
passed on. When soup is earthy and full-bodied as
soup can be it, brings warmth
after a day’s journey. When tired and forlorn
I put on Chet Baker and don’t think of anything else.
Give ears a workout. Remind myself
of blame. She left, ‘in a mellow tone’
written by Duke Ellington later recorded by Coleman Hawkins,
it was a favourite vinyl left on the stairs – a letter of ill-fated love.
In the ochre warmth of my kitchen.
I cooked to John Lee Hooker, no animals were slaughtered
in vegetarian dishes. This seven-year itch
with expressive sounds like Ella Fitzgerald
only brings tears in beautiful quiet,
deeply receded listening till the last note
plays. The sax winds down, the trumpet signs off,
the glass tap of a high-hat dies, brings silence, leaves
the body – and the ear grows cold.