This poem is-- the blues singer, the singer
in any kind of jazz combo is often called a canary,
for obvious reasons.
But the canary is also that bird that the miners
take down into the mines to test for gas leaks.
Canary.
"Billie Holiday's burned voice had as many shadows as lights.
A mournful candelabra against the sleek piano,
the gardenia, her signature under that ruined face.
Now you're cooking, drummer to bass.
Magic spoon, magic needle.
Take all day if you have to with your mirror and your bracelet
of song.
Fact is, the invention of women under siege
has been to sharpen love in the service of myth.
If you can't be free, be a mystery."