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Tuesday 5 August 2014

A poem about longing and love by David Tombale: Jazz


There are some people who become as necessary to your wellbeing as the air in your lungs and that’s what Jazz is meant to capture.
 
 
 
Jazz
 
A need for you lingers in the way I write
 the letters of my name, up and down with
 this leaky pen like somehow I could capture
 the momentum that takes me past the cold
 environs of our past,
 like if I run enough I might one day fly past Italy
 and into France,
 but loving you is still the music I wish to play,
 kissing your lips is still like jazz to me,
 a song I play in the jukebox of my mind so often
 I don’t even want to dance but while lying here
 counting ceiling tiles and tracing the outlines
 of my ribs I realize there’re no more ricochets,
 no more loud bangs to do me in,
 lying against this window I breathe a fog of
 damp air so I can write inside the glass,
“Meet me here.’
 
 

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