Xylophone

Xylophone

They watched the river go by composing,
it gave no signal the night had ever let its lips loose.

Under the bridge, the slip stream xylophone tones about the Navy,
with its galleons and canons and burning.

The nows in the curlicued eel backs, whip crack
the sedimented gone gob stopper rocks.

The lozenge sun brings in the strings
and boasts of big breasted boat shadows

which lie like blankets over the livery.