Every month a previously unpublished poem by Steve Day is posted on this page. 


Poem Of The Month







Contact: earssteveday@gmail.com 



         Stolen Saxophone




After we had stolen the saxophone

the next few days were an ugly quiet.

Nobody would talk about it or risk

improvising free music at the cost

of disturbing a hush of hysteria

bubbling mute on forked tongue.




Over the next months our plans

spurned speech, now no one knew

their own name nor wanted to.

We possessed the saxophone,

who would want to blow it?

Somehow that never seemed

quite the right thing to do.




It stayed in pieces inside the blue velvet

case, a disfigured doll with no child’s play.

Horn of plenty without purchase or purpose,

sitting out this set like a paralysed hand.

This is what happens when we steal the gifts

believed to belong to us, but gone to others.




A saxophone is not just an object of desire

it is a voice of invocation.

This King Super-20 tenor with pearl keys

circa 1958 has been taken into an

enforced retirement and emptied of language

by a woodshed of hoodlums now whispering

for fear of waking up a scale

in the dry reed mouthpiece.

Guilty pleasures given back to silence.