Cigar Box Banjo

The heart may be a trashy organ, but when it plucks its shiny banjo...

Cigar Box Banjo

Blind Willie Johnson could coax
music from a single string. God plucked a rib
and found a woman. Concert aria
in the gypsy song, long groan
of orgasm in the first kiss, plastic bag
of heroin ripening in the poppy fields.
Right now, in a deep pocket of a politician’s brain,
a bad idea is traveling along an axon
to make sure the future resembles a cobra
rather than an ocarina.
Still there’s hope in every cartoon bib
above which a tiny unfinished skull in
its beneficence dispenses a drooling grin.
The heart may be a trashy organ,
but when it plucks its shiny banjo
I see blue wings in the rain.
 
 
Kim Addonizio

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Poem ©2014 Kim Addonizio, all rights reserved. Used by permission of the author and publishers Plume Poetry and Stephen F. Austin State University Press. Film ©2015 Motionpoems, Inc., all rights reserved.

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