a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter
Tag Archives: evening
by Thomas Davis
King Rotten picked a bone out of the air!
The ivories tickled white with music wild!
Gold flashed and slid within the living room
As fingers pumped and fingers danced and flew
And smiles flowed wine, and feet rugged up the floor!
King Rotten graveled down into his throat.
Queen White bird-thrilled into a belting song!
Prince Rotten grinned his legs too loose for joints
As Captain Jack peered through his windowed soul,
And Snuffer shuffled snuffling through the songs.
And then, as evening swirled her starry dress,
And Rotten grumbled at his puckered lips,
And Queen White sang of wanting fancy shoes,
The bone fell golden to the night’s tired floor,
And ivories danced until they danced no more.
I sat in silence, wrapped in jazz’s womb—
The music died; the silver silence mooned.
Originally published in Wisconsin Trillium.
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
When we visited Cedaredge, Colorado, taking Tom’s mother with us, the motel we stayed in was filled with hunters. They got up before dawn to go out on Grand Mesa to hunt, but later on in the day we went for a drive in the area around Cedaredge and found fields full of deer close to houses where they would be safe.