Mary Lou Williams Plays (See the Cloud, and Feel its Bolt, and How this Bolt so Stuns)
Tangerine petals astound the weeds
And the park walks like a bandstand.
A ghost builds her barrelhouse—
That’s what gave this place its devil’s music.
Overwhelm yourself with buoyant glissando.
Wreck the boughs with orphanhooded light.
Imagine a rag doll full of indigo transfers
& the calaphony of wheels.
She scratches the keys and makes knots
In the passage of hours; the stars bind to their cinnamon.
She plays cots & thrift shops, and is strung
Like a barrel of myth; ants burning a violet.
In the trees she turned her biscuit face toward me,
And lifted her gesturing hand…and then she was gone.
