HOME / poem: A weekly poem, read by the author.

A Riff for Sidney Bechet

By Stanley MossPosted Tuesday, March 2, 2004, at 10:42 AM ET

Listen to Stanley Moss reading this poem.

That night in Florence,
forty-five years ago,
I heard him play
like "honey on a razor,"
he could get maple syrup
out of a white pine,
out of a sycamore,
out of an old copper beech.
I remember that summer
Michelangelo's marble
naked woman's breasts,
reclining Dawn's nipples—
exactly like the flesh I ached for.
How could Dawn behind her clouds hurt me?
The sunrise bitch was never mine.
He brought her down. In twelve bars of burnt sugar,
she was his if he wanted her.

E-MAIL

RECOMMEND... Get Slate RSS Feeds

Stanley Moss' most recent book is A History of Color. His New and Selected Poems 2006 will be published in the fall of 2006.

Click here to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.

To submit poetry to Slate, send up to five poems and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Robert Pinsky, Slate Magazine, Boston University, 236 Bay State Road, Boston, MA, 02215.

What did you think of this article?

Join The Fray: Our Reader Discussion Forum

POST A MESSAGE | READ MESSAGES