"Trever's Song" by Matt Rader

[cinaed]

TREVER'S SONG

in memory of Trever Harris

In the space between slip and fall, the asphalt sky prickled with stars,
he felt a noise break in his heart, blood-rushed and ecstatic, jazz-boned,
the low swell of a saxophone gone berserk, a frenetic constellation
of notes jerked from his dreams and set earborne above the earth.

He heard dirt-tones and blood-chords, hunger-phrases and bone notes all
shaken like a gin martini and woven into flannel shirts, a muddy dirt bike ride
through his life hung as a mobile in the last of the summer nights,
the spooled sound of his body unspun, let loose, rain over Hornby Island.

And in that instant a light fired in his eye, and he spied his reflection
glimmer in the crystal flesh of the night, shatter-wise and dumbstruck,
silent in the bosom of the rushing wind, and soul tied like a marionette
to the sky, a huge net of sound parachuting him unharmed to the ground.