Benedict had
gone home.
Yochana's father
had driven back
to his village miles away.
Her mother sat
in the lounge
flicking through
musical manuscripts
on the piano.
Yochana came in
from seeing
her father's car
out of sight
with Benedict
at the back.
Your mind was not
on the Schumann
as you played,
her mother said
turning and gazing
at her daughter.
I was tired,
Yochana said
walking and sitting
on the sofa
where Benedict had sat
some moments ago
before his departure.
Did you not sleep?
Her mother asked
studying her daughter’s
expression eyeing
over her body.
Not well,
Yochana said
thinking of being
in Benedict's bed
(the guest house bed
where he was).
That boy
is a distraction to you
and I can see it
in your lacklustre playing,
her mother said
I saw the way
he looked at you.
Yochana looked
at her mother and said:
it wasn't him
that distracted me
it was the boring
Schumann piece.
Her mother raised
an eyebrow.
Schumann is
never boring
he is anything but,
her mother chided
pulling her lips
into a look of disdain.
He bores me,
Yochana said
looking at the place
on the sofa where
Benedict sat
the slight indentation.
I'm not sure it is good
for that boy to be here
if it affects
your piano practice,
her mother said
studying her daughter's face
and the eyes
looking far away.
I love him,
Yochana said
looking at her
mother's face
at the eyes
peering at her.
Love him?
What do you
know of love
you're still a child
and he is
nothing to you,
the mother said,
now enough of this
nonsense you are
to practise
the Mozart will
get you going.
Yochana looked
at the piano
and rose up
and walked towards it
and sat down
on the piano stool.
Now begin
at the beginning
of the 3rd piano sonata,
her mother said.
Yochana couldn't
get being
in Benedict’s bed
out of her mind
how they
had lain there
and kissed
and touched
and got overly hot.
She began to play
the Mozart piece.
Her mother sat
in an armchair
and looked and listened.
Yochana imagined
Benedict stood behind her
as she played
his hands around her waist
his breath on her neck.
Slower with the Mozart,
her mother said sharply
not too rushed.
Yochana felt him
kissing her neck
and all was hushed.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 2:43 AM UTC
Benedict had
gone home.
Yochana's father
had driven back
to his village miles away.
Her mother sat
in the lounge
flicking through
musical manuscripts
on the piano.
Yochana came in
from seeing
her father's car
out of sight
with Benedict
at the back.
Your mind was not
on the Schumann
as you played,
her mother said
turning and gazing
at her daughter.
I was tired,
Yochana said
walking and sitting
on the sofa
where Benedict had sat
some moments ago
before his departure.
Did you not sleep?
Her mother asked
studying her daughter’s
expression eyeing
over her body.
Not well,
Yochana said
thinking of being
in Benedict's bed
(the guest house bed
where he was).
That boy
is a distraction to you
and I can see it
in your lacklustre playing,
her mother said
I saw the way
he looked at you.
Yochana looked
at her mother and said:
it wasn't him
that distracted me
it was the boring
Schumann piece.
Her mother raised
an eyebrow.
Schumann is
never boring
he is anything but,
her mother chided
pulling her lips
into a look of disdain.
He bores me,
Yochana said
looking at the place
on the sofa where
Benedict sat
the slight indentation.
I'm not sure it is good
for that boy to be here
if it affects
your piano practice,
her mother said
studying her daughter's face
and the eyes
looking far away.
I love him,
Yochana said
looking at her
mother's face
at the eyes
peering at her.
Love him?
What do you
know of love
you're still a child
and he is
nothing to you,
the mother said,
now enough of this
nonsense you are
to practise
the Mozart will
get you going.
Yochana looked
at the piano
and rose up
and walked towards it
and sat down
on the piano stool.
Now begin
at the beginning
of the 3rd piano sonata,
her mother said.
Yochana couldn't
get being
in Benedict’s bed
out of her mind
how they
had lain there
and kissed
and touched
and got overly hot.
She began to play
the Mozart piece.
Her mother sat
in an armchair
and looked and listened.
Yochana imagined
Benedict stood behind her
as she played
his hands around her waist
his breath on her neck.
Slower with the Mozart,
her mother said sharply
not too rushed.
Yochana felt him
kissing her neck
and all was hushed.
