Very nice. Who are your literary inspirations?

One of my old works:

Saxophone

The tide left a saxophone
on my doorstep this evening.
Orange sunset cloaked the
vagrant – its surface wouldn’t
shine, tarnished to dirt
brown. I thought it might be
someone’s litter – a twisted
paper bag, or bathtub-
drowned dog.

A frayed piece of gray
shirtsleeve noosed the horn’s neck.
Its cork was split, mouthpiece
missing. Seaweed denied
movement to cracked keys.
Its curved shape was
perverted. Someone
tried to hammer it straight
with a cinderblock.

Once an instrument of grace and
sex, this piece was mauled
and pitched from a boat
under the veil of night,
or hurled from a cliff
by a lover who couldn’t
taste the music.