Sue Jamieson

TUBABABY

 

Sleeping with the tuba
her one small predilection
its old brassy hump and battered valves

 

coil upon coil of intestinal tubing
for that low sound
her call to arms

 

how she loved its wide open bell
as it spouted oompah like an elephant
with bilge on the banks of the Nile.

 

Of course they all laughed
at her deep breathy note
at the spit gargling in pipes

 

at her marching with the Sallies
in black lace-up shoes
she still tastes the tarnish

 

obsessed with her embouchure.
She sleeps with tubababy in the fust
of the dark bunk bed

 

and on cold nights covers its bell
with soft cotton
cradle               loving             horn

 

 

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