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Ekphrasis: Giza ’61

Perhaps it’s not the way

Satchmo’s horn is an angle

of light—the bell

raised to heaven—or

the way Lucille smiles

her approval, leans back

into the space

meant for music. Notice

the pyramids, the Sphinx

in the ancient distance,

& thanks to the illusion

of the capture, its stone lips

seem poised to kiss

Louie’s hands, a blessing

of the highest calling. Yes,

love can be measured

breath, a divining rod

w/valve & gleam,

(around Lucille’s neck, binoculars?)

a note to sift the sand.

from dying in the scarecrow’s armsFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2018
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Mitchel L.H. Douglas Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.