by Ellen June Wright

by Ellen June Wright

after Alice Coltrane’s harp solo 1970



Under the waterfall
music’s cataract streams down

hands a flurry of grace
fingers cast spells

deftly move among strings
pull sound out—head tilted

watch the winged notes lift and fly
coaxes each reverberation

she could be in a wood
summoning angels to dance

or Alice Tully Hall
showing the white folks

she can fix jazz like gumbo
like shellfish after the shucking

on an instrument so old pharaohs heard it
and David played one too

his music medicine for a king
John was dead three years

I wish he could listen the way I do
bathe in his wife's onslaught once more

but this is my history month
And while I'm on this grave’s side

every month will be Black history
I’ve got nothing else to do

I'm coming with a shovel
I'm coming with a spade

to unearth what's long buried
I might find diamonds, I might hit oil

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Ellen June Wright consulted on guides for three PBS poetry series. Her work has been featured by Verse Daily, Rappahannock Review, The Good Life Review, Passengers Journal, Scoundrel Times, Banyan Review, and others. She’s a Cave Canem and Hurston/Wright alumna and a 2021 and 2022 Pushcart Prize nominee.