97

He stands in the morning light
In the white silk shirt with the
Big black buttons and outside
The window there is ventilator
Steam and traffic noise and he
Is pale and the shade is drawn.

He picks up the instrument to
Examine it: two kilograms of
Brass with raw and imperfect
Valves at intervals along its
Length; small metal pinions
And brass filaments and keys
Padded with dry pink sponge;
An etching of a flower; a solid,
Dull silver mouthpiece, with
Small steel ligature, Japanese.

He looks at it in the milky light
And his eyes are like dim eggs
And he replaces it on his desk.
He gets a tumbler of murky gin
From the white medicine cabinet
And sits down, a spent machine.