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Nightbird
- Wesleyan University Press
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32 N i g h t b i r d If she didn’t sing the day here, a votive sky wouldn’t be at the foot of the trees. We’re in Rome at Teatro Sistina on Ella’s 40th birthday, & she’s in a cutting contest with all the one-night stands. “St. Louis Blues” pushes through flesh ’til Chick Webb’s here beside her. A shadow edges away from an eye, & the clear bell of each note echoes breath blown across some mouth-hole of wood & pumice. So many fingers on the keys. She knows not to ride the drums too close, following the bass down all the black alleys of a subterranean heart. The bird outside my window mimics her, working songbooks of Porter & Berlin into confetti & grace notes. Some tangled laugh & cry, human & sparrow, scat through honey locust leaves, wounded by thorns. ...