lady day
in burgundy and blue
her voice jazzes
unlocks the mind
you wonder what follows time
notes her music comes alive
her voice oh you will
she sweatingly teases
blue piping hints of an ocean’s fate
along the seams of her tightly sewn dress
remembering the haunting tune
or O’Hara’s–
the day lady died
heartache of the day
collect and collect your tones
until the vessel no longer holds
we no longer hold
the burgundy leaves have fallen
brown amidst black and gold
Holiday sang the blues
sunburnt skies electrifies an audience
she’s up there lost in cigarette smoke
the swell of her bosom
you they breathed in
near Howard a back street
off U Street DC
leaf strewn Chocolate Town twilight
though nobody calls it that anymore
T. M. Hudenburg hopes you found some joy and happiness here. Thank you Day Eight (the best day of anyone’s week.)
Image: Jimmy Baikovicius from Montevideo, Uruguay, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
