PIANO PORTRAIT

PIANO PORTRAIT

     —For Herman Berlandt who once lived in a storage room 

         and slept on the baby grand.

Poor chewed teddy bear on the studio piano—

                (the plant looks guilty.)

It serves as a bar, an ironing board, a shelf.

The piano’s lips are closed.

            Small brass knobs like eyes, or nostrils—

more bulldog than swan.

No cygnet, or grand piano,

when properly encouraged

             it sings superbly.

             An infinite swan song.

It wants touching—
             the deft stroke and caress, or even abuse:
             a Lullaby by Brahms, or Maple Leaf Rag.

It vocalizes the song of the fingers

in arias and open octaves.

I imagine those black and white keys asleep,

or perhaps when the lid is down,
            they run out the back door
            to play among the wires

only to return at the sound

of approaching fingers.

5/4/94