painting by Dusty Jonakin.
Black and Blues
“I never had the blues--no, the blues
always had me.”--Brownie McGhee.
You know they say
that a black snake moans
when it hears a mess
of thumping, banging blues.
Purists, piously munching pieces
of pigeon pot pie, would argue
that a snake can only hiss--
but I would be remiss
not to strongly disagree,
for when that silver slide bar zings
along those six cat gut strings,
I tell you
that old black snake moans,
like a gambler shaking his bones,
like ice cream without its cones,
like a scream the bitch actually owns,
like punks without their phones,
like a blade a thug will hone--
it just coils there all alone,
bobs its head back
and damned sure moans;
joined by a hound dog howling,
and a tomcat screeching,
and a church mouse praying,
and a harnessed horse haranguing!
you know it’s true--
banging blues always
does that to you.
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub