like a piano i once saw at the Palmer House

I keep thinking I saw this scene
in a movie:

a Steinway
has tumbled down a flight of stairs
right out of my heart and made such
a delicious clatter of keys and
revelation–a hasty  descent to
the pit of my stomach, splinters
and bile collect like disbelief.

I want to be so bitterly articulate
but I am orphaned ivory
climbing from the wreckage of this
baby grand.  Eyes flutter. Stars. Dizzy.

Taste copper.  You are still holding
the bamboo spoon.  Tomato sauce
bubbles and punctuates.

I walk past pots boiling over my name,
sit on the couch.

Tiny feet climbing into bed above me.
Stare at a deep frozen lake of film,

ice like stained glass.  I’ll pour what melts
down the drain, and sleep
on the couch for another two weeks

before packing my record collection while you’re at work.


BIO: Jim received his MFA at Wilkes University and is the Managing Editor of Quiddity International Literary Journal and Public Radio Program at Benedictine University.

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