Masked in a cloud of grey,
I don’t know where to begin
to pull the string the tone and tenor
of my trumpet, saxophone
to compose a song in verse
eight octave or lower.
Piano master fingers
move me from Montuno
to Jazz and Guaguanco
tap-tap-tap-Tap-Tap.
Firm hands-on leather drums
chants of Yoruba Saints
calling Oshun, Yemalla
Shango, Obatala, Oya,
Eleggua, Oloddumare
to my Bembé con mí Guaguancó
my swollen hands,
fingers on the drums
offering in reverence
conga, quinto y bongo!