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POEM: Eli on fire

respect

Eli on fire

the back of the room was so dark
I couldn’t see my hands

but I could see his hands clearly
holding that silvery trumpet

a cloud of mist around the mouthpiece
the bell burning under the lights

and Eli, still as stone
and every bit as strong

calling down the walls of Jericho
in a basement under the West Village

24 January 2013
Auburn, AL

Published in Auburn Jazz Music My poems New York City Poem-A-Day 2013 Poetry

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