April 27 Poem 30/27 Night Noon

April 27 Poem 30/27 Night Noon
James Nave

 

A small plane grinds overhead. I wonder
where the pilot is going in the cool spring
air so close to midnight. The jazz players
call this “night noon.” It’s the blue time,
the get me high time, the lonely time,
the time they fill their songs with smoke.
I lie on my bed listening to Billy Holiday.
She’s sad even when her songs are happy.
That’s okay, you can forgive Billy’s sad when
she sings “All Of Me.” The lady had good karma.
Any of us would do well to come back singing
like Billy, letting the songs pour out of our mouths,
a fine romance. Sure, it’s hard when you’re lover’s
in New York. You miss her, but a little jazz moves
things along and makes the night worth eating
raisins in. I’ve lost 12 pounds in the last three weeks.
I will swallow enough jazz to I gain it back.
I rub my body’s soft skin. I know why Billy
closed her eyes when she sang. What song will
I sing when the thunder comes and the heavens
rain? I am not afraid to be tender, nor am I afraid
to love. Let’s not weep for the ones we’ve left
behind, especially when our memories are kind.
The rain has arrived. I’ll drift off listening to
Billy sing, “Summertime.”

from a series “thirty poems in thirty days”
jamesnave.com

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