Saralee’s Waltz
Every morning she resumes her love affair
with the piano lounging on the sleeping rug
as the light slips in beyond the highest stair
one arthritic palm dangles mid air
the piano holds its breath as flesh meets key
skating along the surface to an internal melody
Fingers play hopscotch across the piano
rewinding jump ropes from a
ten siblings crowded one bathroom in 1929
twelve dollar piano paid in monthly installments
She got a scholarship to Julliard in World War Two
The only musician with long hair and eyelashes
Raised two daughters and a farm read Marx Hallelu
Jah to the god she never believed existed after all
Where was he when her brothers were black listed
Morning rises on
Her eyes decode the piano’s DNA, see beyond it,
Forgets McCarthy, forgets McNamara,
Sees below the bass, exposes the music raw
Filleting it, splaying its flesh on ivory.
Her fingers bleed on the keys and
She grows younger with every chord.