Pianist
COHORT 1
after-hours, when the musicians have emptied
themselves out of the auditorium, i step onto
center-stage. the spotlight is reminiscent of
a light beam from a flying saucer—take me
to a home i’ve never known. abductee: grand piano
abandoned & exhausted from a day of sonatas,
its surface so sleek & dark, it signals the word
closure. so i open. i raise the lid, the wood
groaning like a man waking up from a
dream. inside, i find a dead swallow
laid out on top of the strings, which are
so precisely aligned, i know they’re waiting
for something to happen. this is their secret,
predicting catastrophes. i lift the corpse gently.
its still rigid, its gray feathers splayed out,
a release that reminds me about my mother
reading goodnight moon to me until
i dreamt of speechless stars, my father giving
me a box full of eggs, saying, “crack each one
open, you’ll be surprised by the yolk dribbling out
every time.” my sister & i on a californian beach
moving our bodies to the rhythm of the waves
because crash was the beat. i remember this symphony
so freshly, yet it’s so far in the past that it’s as dead
as a chime without wind. childhood is gone, replaced
by a contemporary brash melody filled with high
notes & alto-sax. so 21st-century. i want to defy
gravity, but there’s no flight. with the bird expired
on my shoulder, i make my way to the bench. when
i sit down, the audience is already gathering, a quiet rumbling.