the light above
the snowy keys
shines bright, almost
harsh

i can feel the
pain
in her voice
it’s as tangible as

the way her fingers
slightly
almost imperceptibly
tremble
once so confident
now painfully unsure

melodies used to be so
simple, beauty singing through
the strings of a
1940’s piano built of

wood
iron
and ivory

but now caustically
discordant harmonies
of harmonies
are catalyzed by
our recent brush with
ugly memory

i say, “Grandma” when
i see the tear drop to
the surface of
those pristine
yet grievous
keys

it balances there, precipitously, beside
her wedding ring
as she tells me, “i think
that’ll be all for today, my sweet.”