September 2002  

High Notes   © by   Pat Barber
 

See the two of them
the cheerleader and the trumpetier
shadowed beneath the concourse
unaware of crowds streaming by
feet thundering overhead.
Encased in solitude
they speak in tongues—and lips
a sweet duet played softly
in stolen moments

his young hand, calloused from the horn
improvising riffs on her bottom
low-down blues on her thigh
the same smooth thigh he coveted
from the corner of his eye
as she high kicked on the sidelines
stirring fans to frenzy while he waited
mindless and bewitched
to take the field.

She says he is her music
a virtuosity of tongue and fingers
coaxing hot jazz from young flesh.
The cheerleader could have any boy
but the trumpetier plays her song.

Previously published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
Award-Winning Poems 2002. Used with the poet's permission.
NOTICE: The poem on this page is copyright © by the poet.