The freezer hums its lowest notes,
the refrigerator too;
the furnace rumbles, hot air floats
in over covers askew.
A failing neon bulb descants
above the feral cats'
busy tenors, thumps, and pants,
blinking 'Parts' then 'Pats'.
My keyboard's intermittent ticks,
add their small percussive licks
in rhythm with the night.
It only needs a bluesy love
song on a saxophone
to blend in with the memories of
last night's delicious moan.
Besottedly I hum and blow
and buzz and wah and coo
through every love song that I know
in love, in love, with you.
If you have any comments on this poem, Marcus Bales
would be pleased to hear from you.