Peter Balakian: Rock ’n’ Roll

The groove in black vinyl got deeper

What was that light? A migrant
I slid into a scat,

and in the purple silk
and the Canoe

there was sleekness and a rear-view mirror.

And the Angels flew out of the cloisonne vase
They were the rachitic forks hanging in the midnight kitchen.
And so I called you after the house was still.
My turquoise Zenith melting

And you asked: what was that light?
I was spinning. I was the trees shivering,
and the snake of coiled light on the ceiling
was moonglow.

I wasn’t a fool in a satin tux.
I was Persian gold and blue chenille
I was the son of the Black Dog of Fate.

I said: I saw a rainbow of glass
above the Oritani Theater.

Lord, lead me from Hackensack New Jersey
into the white streak of exhaust.