Light shines off sax like radiant sun running off shadeless;
Keen keys, pearl and cool, like triggers on a heart’s gun;
Rhythmic rods like golden pipes of paradise’s gilded glades;
Needle springs like hinges and screws driving, driving down demon’s drag;
Metal mezzotint, imprinted and fixed like feathers on streamlined wings;
Circling cork like swollen sighs all leaded and leaking;
Side triggers like fingers so frozen and still;
Warm skin like sunshine where dank alleys see no glow;
Coruscating curves that dance like those daring women, all dark and arcane;
Subtle scrapes like those silent scars of the belligerent boys;
And still yet - that glow - ablaze from this
luminous sax, like the spark that sets the underworld on fire.