On the edge of a kitchen wall, penciled lines with names and dates
Form a column that won’t soon get any taller
And there is room for more photos on the refrigerator door.
Yet the silent piano stands patiently in the living room,
Its overstuffed bench promising Tori Amos and Robert Schumann.
The dungeons and dragons are played out.
Unopened junk mail loiters on a dusty dresser
And a profile of Matt Damon looks after a flock of stuffed animals.
Meanwhile, the silent piano stands patiently in the living room,
The ancestor photos on top dreaming of Claire de Lune.
In the garage, green and rusty red bicycles dangle, poised.
A pea coat and ball cap hang vacant and ready in the hall closet.
In the cupboard a Class of ’97 mug thirsts for what is around the corner.
And the silent piano stands patiently in the living room,
Its dormant pedals anticipating preludes and carols.
Chris Clark
Chris Clark 