Doorways Sound
A banjo plays in a bodega,
a saxophone sex- phones itself.
A door proclaims its ding and dong
voltaic birds bounce along
upon a tin tintinnabulum,
flickers of auricular featherings
wipe off a billion years of dust.
Alabaster hands poised in mid-air,
the kinetics of gesture and stillness.
A strange music is at prayer,
we are there as cobwebs
chiming with every cadence and quiver.
Doorways open their choiring mouths
now cowbells dong
in an all too brief collective
singalong.
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