Playing cards

at the back of the bus,

Sarah could swear

like one of the boys –

her mouth as foul

as any sailor’s.

Scatting hard,

across the octaves,

her lavish voice

was like a horn

swapping licks

with bop’s elite.

One step ahead

of the changes,

she harnessed time

as if she owned it

in pitch-perfect

glissandos.