Poetry Feature: Down at the Club by Barry Peters

mid-winter
my annual descent
into the dark place

dirty immersion
in the muck & mud
& funk-smelling

junk of soul jazz
a gaslit basement
pink-jacketed quintet

rotund bass
walking the dog
saxes & drums

the gummy organ
a rumbling subway
beneath my feet

undersea
melodies adrift
in overcoat pockets

filthy & killer
sugar & spice
in plush booths

& at the heavy bar
another brown drink
in thick glass

a line of draft taps
steeples pointing
up & outta here.

 

Barry Peters and his wife, the writer Maureen Sherbondy, live in Durham, N.C. He has been published in Best New Poets, Image, New Ohio Review, Poetry East, and The Southern Review, among others.

 

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