Vladimir Mayakovsky — But could you?

I blurred at once the chart of trite routine

by splashing paint with one swift motion.

I showed upon a plate of brawny glutin

the slanting cheekbones of the ocean

Upon the scales of tinny fishes

new lips summoned, though yet mute.

But could you

play

right to the finish

a nocturne on a drainpipe flute?