Moving the Piano

Moving the Piano

The wind blew so hard it seemed that it might lift the wood
like a sail,
but it only whipped at the pants,
of the two short men, who felt obliged, at that point, to prove
their own strength. The legs of the beast—that is, the Upright—
transfixed as a bull’s
at the bottom of a high stoop, bruised grass beneath it, and uneven
frozen earth. 

So, slowly, with arms stretched like cords,
legs braced, spines pushing a weight that pushed
back, flngers as clenched as at a recital, the men
shifted the dark wood—you could feel the ivories’ smirk—

Until they were in. 
The men laughed then companionably, bending back one hand,
then the other, and closed the door to shut out
the wind’s harsh howl.

Wheeled the piano now, well, more or less wheeled it,
to its allotted spot—it was like a small triumph
of the human spirit—
the making of our own


Another drafty poem. The pic was the only piano I could find (that I had made.) The one in the poem is an upright not a grand. Have a good day!

Explore posts in the same categories: Uncategorized

Tags: ,

You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.

I'd love to hear from you!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: