• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 11

Grand Piano

Your hand, a grand piano in my dream,
so grand that I had to climb your fingers,
pressed one of them,
not with my finger, but with imagination;

in the key of d, dreams were louder
when you awoke to other dreams,
in the key of g, ginkgo trees’ yellow leaves,
heavy as hope,
as above, so below.

I saw my eye in the head of your ring,
growing dark like a dilated pupil.
Let your ring be a black key, one for all,
from the lowest to the highest, my imagination leapt;

in the key of c sharp, cicadas were screaming
in your bag, this summer was unstoppable,
in the key of b flat, trumpet vines crept over
your fingers, unscripted notes for hummingbirds.
Pink moon appeared from a pianissimo
and stayed in my dream notes as a fortissimo.