Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

Coltrane’s Heart


Upon our wait for the blossoms of the pink Dogwood,

You turned to me with cornflower blue eyes,

That sang with Coltrane’s heart, and Holliday’s soul.

This time I was assured, and disposed.

This time, there would be no looking away.

Your face approaching mine,

Like a melting snowflake in April.

No more patient than slow.

With closed eyes, we became familiar to the soft parting of lips,

Lips that were as soft as the dogwoods blossoms.

The same blossom’s we so eagerly awaited.

Instead, the perfect overlapping of uppers and lowers,

As if we were de Goya, and O’Keefe.

Our tongues faintly transplanting neoteric shades of Cornell and Mantis,

No more patient than slow.

Our breath was only for each other.

That smelled better than the pink buds, of the Dogwood tree.

That still thrives, in this emptiness.

Like I, it blooms for you.


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7 thoughts on “Coltrane’s Heart

  1. someone is very very lucky. 🙂

  2. Absolutely. Though I think it’s time to start putting more flowers out.

  3. Beautiful. My first thought was you’re way too young to know Coltrane and Holliday, then I saw how you used the other names – very effective.

    • Actually, I love both of them. My parents exposed me to all different types of music-in fact I still have the record player my dad gave me when I was 10 (it even has an 8 track player)

      Thanks for the wonderful comment Paul.

  4. nicely done alpha. works well for the muse but it never works out that way in real life….:(

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