for John Coltrane, and forever for Bruce
I always shudder when I pray.
Mama say the Lord enters you in stages,
first like a match lit under your skin,
then like an animal biting through bone
with soft teeth. Mama say lie still
and wait for glory to consume you,
wrap its way into your map
like a lover had his finger on paradise,
knew the way with all his heart, then lost it.
I always shudder when I pray,
so your name must be a prayer.
Saying your name colors my mouth,
frees loose this river, changes my skin,
turns my spine to string. I pray all the time now.
Amen.
Try not to touch me while I tell this.
Try not to brush the thick tips of your fingers
against my throat while my throat moves
telling this story. Don’t suddenly squeeze
my bare shoulder or travel your mouth
along the flat swell of my belly.
Don’t bite at the hollow in my back,
whisper touch my ankles,
or match our skin like spoons.
Don’t punctuate this rambling sentence
with your tongue or trace your name
on the backs of my legs,
please don’t walk the question
of your breath along my thighs
or draw a map on my quivering breastbone
guiding me to you,
me to you,
me to you,
don’t play me
that way
don’t play me
that way
the way the saxman plays his woman,
blowing into her mouth till she cries,
allowing her no breath of her own.
Don’t play me that way, baby, the way
the saxman plays his lady,
that strangling, soft murder—notes like bullets,
riffs like knives and the downbeat slapping
into her. and she sighs.
into her. and she cries.
into her.
and she whines like the night turning.
Let me sit here on the bar stool sipping something bitter.
Let me cross my legs,
slow
and let me feel your eyes go there.
Let me feed on glory and grow fat.
Meanwhile, lover, let’s fill this wicked church with music.
Let me lean into this story, for once,
without your mouth on me. The music a lit match
under my skin and I dance,
all legs and thunderous and heels too high,
I dance cheap perfume and black nail polish.
Sharkskin congregation, heads pressed,
attitudes too tight, won’t scream
until it gets to be too much, won’t beg for mercy
until I wreck the landscape with my hips.
Bar stools filling, everybody waiting for the glory
to move through me, fill me with hosannas,
rock me with hallelujahs, to shake these bored bones.
They wait for you, supreme love, to pull me out
onto the dance floor, make me kick my heels above my head.
High heels ’bove my nappy head.
While they wait, I will dance with the saxman,
I will shimmer as he presses my keys.
Him and me boppin’, we are wicked church.
So don’t play, do not play, did you hear me tell you
not to play me that way?
(The way I pray to be played.)
Mama say the Lord enters you in stages
(Play me that way)
First like a lit match under your skin
Then like an animal biting through bone with soft teeth
(Play me)
Mama say lie still and wait for glory
(that way)
to consume me
(that way)
Press my keys
(that way)
Press my keys
(that way)
Don’t pay me no mind, lover.
I always shudder
when I pray.