Golda Solomon
my mother figure is jazz
anna zack gave me life independence firecrackers
announce my arrival round midnight feedings
from infant to woman the blues hummed loud
‘til teats of notes chord changes/ jazz woke by
a legend with three horns a plenty in his mouth
blind and yet all seeing he knew my laugh
club smells of stale tobacco sweet sweat and
maryjane riffs that jelly rolled up and down keys
my hungry mouth found you Monk my jazz mother
last flourish of arpeggio on the keyboard tipped hat
cash register opened paid by the termini brothers
three a.m. walks streets empty don’t step on the cracks
ratner’s open welcomes this miss ann and supermen
of all instruments i learn the vocabulary of black
rage survival resistance this genre of genius
hail mary taxis take them home to brooklyn/ harlem
farts from trucks beginning early morning runs
dawn breaking sleep like a baby ready set go
weaned on scotch and milk chicken ‘n waffles
soul sax at wells saint .nicks pub showmans on 125th
classic sounds reside/bent anew by my extended family
bach toccatas wafting thru sir roland’s fingers
betty carter sings me the ways of holding on tight
don’t let go the ways of men and love
blue coronet the needle’s eye the half note
finger snappin’ thigh slappin ‘ ear poppin’ five spot
nina’s mississippi goddamn my history lessons
down the stairs of the vanguard seventh ave.south of
my dissonant childhood. those nights i dream al jolson
gershwin and smell my daddy’s nicotine scent
Golda Solomon, Poet/Author/Artist/Editor/
Mentor, Poet-in-Residence Blue Door Art Center, Facilitator, ArtSpeak, Make W.A.V.E.S.(Writing,Activism, |