My fingers trample strings like stallions stampeding in line
They drift away like a dream muted in usual time.
Hands chop on an axe, lumbering down frets
Hammering with no regret
how that saw blade sounds.
Bow-like bends, slithering snake slides,
move that blue woe to trumpet aloud.
Aurally arousing reverberations
vibrate loosely in an ambient tide
lambently surrounding pleased ears
like welcome-home-lips kiss frustrated tears.
I choke that speckled neck severely
conquering that black wood frame
making her sing my name.
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