for Thelonious Monk

I have a table for one at The Five Spot Cafe.
Monk is on stage with Miles Davis and Art Blakey.
No one in his band disturbs the jazz genius,
or waits for him to speak to them when his mood
is no brighter than his E Flat Minor.

His melodies are the words his black fingers play
on black and white keys for a black and white crowd,
with a band always ready to follow Monk’s lead.
He may change a play at the line of scrimmage,
sending Blakey in motion, handing off to Miles.

His bebop beat has made the early crowd dance,
but when it’s late, they sit for a final set.
Monk begins a blue tune an hour past midnight,
after artists have come from their own early gigs
in East Village venues and other Bowery bars.

The room goes silent, but for ice in cocktail glasses.
Monk pauses his hands above the keys. His fans
understand that notes unplayed can strike a chord,
a feeling, the way his five first notes strike me now.
It’s a lonely melody, like the sound of an empty bed.

Terry Huff is a writer and retired clinical social worker in Tennessee. He earned a certificate in creative writing from MTSU Write, where he was mentored by poet Denton Loving. Huff’s poetry has appeared in Salvation South, Micro-lit, Main Street Rag, and Anthology of Appalachian Writers. He is author of Living Well with ADHD (Specialty Press, 2016). When not writing, Terry is playing with his friends, dogs, guitar, or practicing insight meditation.