A Night in Havana
Dizzy in Thurston Howell garb steps samba-like
through the airport exit. On film, he and his entourage
move like dancers tapping clave in a Las Vegas
revue called A Night in Havana. His embrace
of space defies ground and grounding.
Amiri, you called him high priest, royalty,
a monarch who flew you from dusty bebop
recordings into pyramidal possibility,
Diz’s bent horn an angled reckoning.
Oop shoobee doobee . . . Oop! –
recovered idiom – the way through.
Something in the way. . . Amiri, aka, Leroi.
Something in the way of things.
Doralee Brooks, a teacher-consultant with the Western Pennsylvania Writing Project teaches in the Developmental Studies Department at the Community College of Allegheny County. Her poems have appeared more recently in Voices from the Attic, Pittsburgh City Paper, and Dos Passos Review. She is an MFA candidate at Carlow University, and writes with the Madwomen in the Attic poetry workshops. Doralee lives in Bridgeville with her husband, Michael, and her grandson, Edley.