Piano Mom

Piano Mom

In the kitchen, slicing bell peppers,
I hear the plink, plink
of piano keys
under your hesitant fingers.

But an invisible hand has
filed down the spring steel
in the old upright;
the hammers drop,
the cordes fray and sever.

Sharps turn flat,
dampers close;
Keys yellow and stick,
and stay tacet.

I used to play hide and seek -
wedge myself between
piano and wall -
could your memory
be hiding there,
smelling of dust and old paper?

My knife clatters in the sink
and rings the tuning fork pitch
you cannot find.

The broken melody
of your mind
in the plink of piano keys.

All I am able to do -
wait for the accelerando
and the full rest.