Piano Lesson

I grow heavy in springtime. Feel a hard knot gather itself: push, release.              I night swim bare, scissor kick chlorine on mother’s wicker chairs.                            Salt makes me thirsty. I swallow. Hope I’ll grow scales.

Mother tunes her piano each dawn. Plays until a wire breaks, then strings steel              through soap. Delicate, her ivory fingers plot crescendos.                            The afternoon sings arpeggio, fortepiano as her foot slips off

The gold pedal, felt hammer strikes. I am a whole note, caught between lines.              I hold my breath four beats, but nothing. This is the way it has to be.                            I bear, lose sight of ankles. Feel water in fingers

Rise to sea level. Black rocks whisper to me. The swell foams, waves crash              a favorite song. Great egrets in flight. I am no mother.                            Look at me, ruining all over.