Duet

BY LISA ROSINSKY
Posted 7/11/19

Two pairs of wrinkled hands and eighty-eight smooth keys,some black, some white: so simple. Two pairs of hands, one

hundred and sixty-two years combined between them,like cords of thick rope …

This item is available in full to subscribers.

Please log in to continue

Log in

Duet

Posted

Two pairs of wrinkled hands and eighty-eight smooth keys,
some black, some white: so simple. Two pairs of hands, one

hundred and sixty-two years combined between them,
like cords of thick rope hoisting the curtain of a late act

in a long and richly-detailed play. Seven fresh-picked
daffodils in a tall blue vase on top of the piano, shivering

with each chord. One petal falls, and another. Candles,
white; flames, yellow; points of light in the dim room.

Two grey heads bent over the pages of Bach. See them
through the thick panes of glass that inexperience slides

before my younger eyes. Better, hear what they make:
no pantomime, but a frenzy; each note no fragile flower

but a flame, capering on a stiff thin stem; burning but alight.

Comments

No comments on this story | Please log in to comment by clicking here
Please log in or register to add your comment