Clarinetist Poem by Waldemar Ens

In
tri
cate
jumb
le of
silver
on black

tapers to tip
with clamped moistened reed

I’m 13
blonde boy
adolescent hands grasp five sections
push
and
twist together for first time

gradually mouth and fingers make it part of me
flexible voice reaching up
delving
down

I was never able to slide up the Gershwin rhapsody
or noodle true jazz like Benny or Woody
but the jumble of feelings when I play
clamps my heart in place

and I know who I am again