Thursday, 6 November 2008

Trio

Kicking a ragged box from within
the drums began,
disjointed. 
Stuttering fury 
they angled in,
awkward with their own limbs.

A crooked guitar 
pained, 
with feet treading on sharp flints in rain
glinted through thin curtains,
and somewhere round the corner,
a tenor sax circled 
and dived
into a blues scale,
like a humming child 
swinging a skipping rope
believing it to be a snake coming into life.