For Noli Aurillo

 

Among the shadows of the bar

In the late Malate night,

Perched on a stool on a dais,

You pick the notes, 

Strum the rhythm, and pluck

At our hearts. On the hard wood 

Of the bar-top your reflection 

On a beer stein makes as if you are

Caught inside the glass, 

Swirling in the amber liquid,

And we are intoxicated with your

Codas and refrains: The universe

Catches its breath between the verses.

As you pick up the melodic passages 

And quote from masterpieces, 

You are minstrel and lutenist 

Across the ages. The percussions 

Follow your lead, mark 

Every slide or mute you make, 

And we, listeners and accompanists, 

The congas and the tambourines, 

Hang on to the strings' tiniest utterances.

Mesmerized, mortified by our

Avid hunger for more,

We await the lightest touch of your 

Last harmonic. You smile 

A knowing smile, you bow at our 

Applause and we light a cigarette.

 

Marne Kilates

26 July 2021

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