A Saxophone sat in Picadilly Square

A saxophone once sat
stoic and stern
in olde Picadilly Square
before the sun was up
after a night when the midnight sky
dripped of redblood and squared triangles
oozing with a crystal light
that seemed to be from a void deck
cabbined and cribbed
in a lock of hair
not quite flowing or silky

in stilled and silenced corners
it attempted to jump
first onto the stern of a floating yacht
then onto the yacht club's wheel of fortune
onto anything remotedly moving
evoking a nostalgia of bright jazzy lights
full throated voices in pink lighted bars
with a free flow of absinthe and vodka
with dancers on high heels
and Greek sailors throwing wine goblets
[though not of hemlock]
onto a fireplace of white and black
a glazed artificial colour
on a glazed artificial site
where lions sat on the back of a serpent
roaring in disgruntled fury
their paws muzzled to the legs
of a stoic stony Sphinz
that was not of Giza ...

in a silent corner
i saw that old saxophone sit
and in a silenced corner
i saw it die one day
its gold drifting onto the mud and gravel
of a discordantly arranged piece of music
that was later discovered to be
a seismograph ...