Thoughts welcome.
She sits with her
hands in her lap, twisting
like kittens in a basket. Her voice is just
as furry when she says, “I swear to God
I can hear a piano coming through the wall.”
I hear nothing, but try to soothe her by saying,
“Yes, it’s next door, they really like
ragtime, I know…” and she clarifies, “NO,
I MEAN A REAL PIANO IS COMING THROUGH
THE REAL WALL! THE WHOLE DAMN THING IS COMING
ALL THE WAY THROUGH!” I tell her she’s safe and shake another
pill from the bottle, pour a glass of water, all the while
thinking that it’s time
for me to pull up stakes and
go, time to start thinking
of this marriage
as the far edge of a Western settlement
built too far from the fort
to be protected in a crisis. I start to see myself
as last survivor, intrepid pioneer, standing on the hill
for a look back at
the smoking ruin, whence I alone have escaped to tell the tale –
then I shoulder my pack and face away, headed West
into wilderness
where danger is assumed and direct
not insidious —
and now she’s mumbling again,
repeating the phrase turned inside out, “I
swear to the walls that I can hear
God in a piano” – and it only sounds odd
if you do not understand that
she believes in her walls
the way I used to believe in God.
Back at the frontier, the house fire’s sparked
long lines of red that sweep away behind me.
I can smell the conflagration
even though the wind has shifted away,
can hear it the way music is heard
from a direction you’re not looking at –
a murmur cracking the air until you have to turn around —
and now she’s saying, “My walls, May walls, play walls,
play my piano, and God swears
by it all” – she speaks of God
as if God could take his own name in vain,
doing what God proscribed in stone –
doing what the core voice of a burning bush said never to do;
while the drug takes hold
I’m thinking about all those years in the wilderness
as she falls asleep, whispering in her ear,
“love, the walls are so thick here, nothing can come through.”
I rock her in my arms amid the smell of smoke,
the soft meow she has always made in her dreams,
the faint sound of music from somewhere.
Dark Matter 
December 9th, 2003 at 7:55 pm
Re: i likes…
LOL…I actually chose that word for its rhythm! Haven’t done it on stage yet, so it may vanish.
Thanks…
December 9th, 2003 at 7:52 pm
i likes…
I love poems that are stories with multiple layers of meaning, but are also interesting on the surface.
Favorite line:
where danger is assumed and direct
not insidious —
“Conflagration” is a bit of a mouthful, though, and doesn’t seem to flow with the rhythm of the rest of the piece. Or it could just be that Subway commerical has ruined the word for me!
Kudos!
December 8th, 2003 at 10:12 pm
Congratulations
I reward you the Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Seriously, though, congratulations on the existence of this poem. It may be my favorite Tony Brown poem, and, as you know, I’m a fan.
December 8th, 2003 at 10:04 pm
Re: Heh. Heh. Heh.
Sou posted an entry not too long ago that was simply the line, “I swear to God I can hear a piano through the walls.” I responded with a comment that “I swear to the walls that I can hear God through the piano.” After assorted pleasantries, I noted that we had the makings of a poem there, and ended it with “Race ya!” She accepted the challenge.
And I won, I won, I won!
December 8th, 2003 at 9:38 pm
Re: Heh. Heh. Heh.
I noticed you mentioned that Sou owes you a poem. Was this part of a challenge, along the lines of writing a poem for a given title, or of several people writing poems on the same theme or topic? If so, may I ask — that’s a stupid question, I’m already asking — If so, what were the guidelines?
December 8th, 2003 at 8:27 pm
Heh. Heh. Heh.
(Cackling madly)
Thanks, Ms. S. Now let’s hear yours…
December 8th, 2003 at 8:24 pm
Re: Yeah…
damn.you totally beat me!
& with a great piece, too – my fave:
and now she’s saying, “My walls, May walls, play walls,
play my piano, and God swears
by it all” – she speaks of God
& this too, very very much:
ragtime, I know…” and she clarifies, “NO,
I MEAN A REAL PIANO IS COMING THROUGH
THE REAL WALL! THE WHOLE DAMN THING IS COMING
ALL THE WAY THROUGH!”
me, i ‘ve got 2 lines. more as it comes…
Tony Brown, you’re my hero!
December 8th, 2003 at 7:54 pm
Yeah…
Sou’s turn now. Hear that, MacMillan? BRING IT!!!
‘Course, she’s just gonna kick my ass in the end.
December 8th, 2003 at 7:52 pm
Thanks.
Y’know, that note about the emotion makes me very happy. I was trying to convey desperation without histrionics.
December 8th, 2003 at 7:51 pm
This is great, and I know ex-ACT-ly where that line came from!
December 8th, 2003 at 7:49 pm
I really enjoyed reading this piece. You’ve packed a lot of emotion into it. It reminds me a bit of Graham Fox’s “My Devil is a Piano Man.” Except yours is written much better.