Ode to the Trombone

I have accepted the Poetry Month, 2012, challenge of NAPOWRIMO, to write 30 poems in 30 days. Needless to say, since this is April 3rd, I'm already behind, but don't you worry, I'll catch up. Yes I will :)

Here is poem number one:

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The trombone is a tenderly bent

Stretched out piece of pipe that

Slides down forward, takes a dive

Doubles back in a switchback

Round a second hairpin turn

Over your shoulder

Switchback again and expanding

First slowly then quicker

Emptying out into a flaring flange

Of the bell which does the blaring

In the player’s hands cross members support

Maintain shape and provide handles

To hold and move the slide to

Predetermined spots where pitches live

If they can be hunted down

The player must remember where

Down on the corner of the slide

The valve for emptying spit

Corked and spring loaded

So as to leak neither spit nor air

At the beginning of the tubular

Raceway a smaller

Cousin of the bell, where

The player places his or her lips

In a kind of raspberry kiss

Vibrating bands of flesh like strings

On a cello, hopefully producing

A sound both robust and mellow

Overall a shiny aura of mostly

Brassy reflection, often marked by

A patina acquired through musicality

And atmospheric experience

It seems to have personality

An individuation of its own

Realized only in intimacy

With its player, yet without

A trombone is still a trombone

Unique in appearance and mechanics

It stands alone