Blue Hues - A poem from 'Rubber Orchestras'

This is another poem from my work-in-progress, forthcoming collection, Rubber Orchestras.

Blue Hues

She said

blue, like a strange heel

steps out of bed

hunting with devilish technique

like trick bag in the white broad’s hand

The river forest hid a palace

recap of the blue slash and pocket

we walked, sliver of a deep,

her confection was flame-red

like bursting inside

Exquisite, and parted her lips

cheek bones of her

beat back the black hustler

drag played the con for sure

like old crow whiskey

in the swedish bosom of her lullabye

her hairy thighs quivered

side of the bed

blue like fifteen echoes of winter

southbound to boulevards of dirty kickbacks

weeping like Bessie

Smith with her speckled head

she guaranteed a 50-50 split

There was a funk box in the rocking room

I was years well heeled

I played a tight con

in the hard eyed world of big time crooks

once, the half witch crushed blood in my rainstorm

and awfully in love

I wore a brokedick hat like a jitney driver

starving in a bargain for coins and Dutch head

with a broken shinbone

dope racket slick and mean

like some hurting thing

till the leather tong snapped

and sealed the sweet miracle

of her breath and hip

blue blowoff in the slum section

built upstairs

of gorilla pussy and champagne.