Holy spirit

To Cecillia

I'm not scarred by a righteous fight
Don’t have a piercing, or tattoos

I’m not certain that I am right

About my haircut or my shoes
There’s nothing peculiar in my speech

Don’t have artistic hands or feet

Sublimity seems out of reach

I live in a suburban  street

I’ve never wowed a trendy club

My lights are off at half-past nine

I haven’t but I know I could

Perhaps I could, with one more wine

I would capture with my muse

The holy spirit of the blues