EVEN IN DARKNESS
after “Even In Darkness”; a painting by Trinh Mai Thach
Even now, the memory of his sound
leaves my body vibrating like a tuning fork.
The spotlight illuminating the musician’s
cheek the colour of red velvet
curtains at a movie theatre, his nimble fingers
resting on a high A, saxophone keys like
drops of gold, eyes spellbound as if heaven
could take him at any moment
and it wouldn’t matter.
Each note smoothed out a knot in my spine,
each chord felt like honey drizzling
into my open mouth. Even in darkness,
his instrument summoned visions of roses,
of rain, of the winter day you left blood
in the snow like drops of pomegranate.
Even in darkness, always,
the quiet humming of middle C.