Bent Brass Panic

Bent Brass Panic

To beat bucket screams in the hot cat alley
misty moon smile and wavering shadows
someone will die in the asphalt corners
bleed in paw curved signatures, steaming
life into the night, melting, melting into cobblestone.

Sax creaked door hinges last moaned a name
before the flash, the burn, the blade twisting
in gut wet music, tight finger fret violet violin
a violence of bow on string, Chianti warm
whining wine onto the street in rivulets.

A melody before dying, a song of quiet quilted lawns
music of green, green grass, of a house, a home
far from full mooned, burned out tenements
the gasp of life in heartless brick, dumpster stink
and rats, red eyed, scurried, black, black -- black.

A slow drum beat, to walk away, just walk away
to the tunnel, to the bridge, carbon soaked roads
leading out, anywhere but here, but now
the beat drum slows, flows in red... and again
the breath, once, once, once, drum, drum silence.