Thursday, September 10, 2020

Escazu by Kenneth Salzmann

Two roads run down the shoulder
of the mountain into Escazu:
one is a brief indulgence
snuggled behind iron bars
screeching sirens
and sunbaked certitude;
the other is a jazz funeral
sounded loud
by dusty third-world dogs
scratching at tin shacks
that pour music into
rising strands of night
driving lusting melodies
deep into dirt road darkness
when the peasant moon
rumbles like a new drum.



Kenneth Salzmann lives in the mountains of central Mexico. He is the author of The Last Jazz Fan and Other Poems and co-editor of the anthologies What Remains: The Many Ways We Say Goodbye and the forthcoming What But the Music.

No comments:

Post a Comment