I was told I was a natural pianist

by | Issue #5, Poetry

Your words have faded, once perched
between the lines, now aloft in eddies
more erstwhile than eccentric, that distort
the shape of sadness that hangs over
more than it looms. Your shadow
has lengthened, once tailored to an acerbic wit,
now high off karmic eutrophy, spins
redbud stories into redwood sagas
that in their grandeur still cannot hide
the kinds of trees they are, and at one time,
years ago, yesterday, your words were yours
and mine as well; they once held hands
in dark hallways, at farmland weddings,
where they echoed and wed, irrespectively,
indifferent to the sound made by a promise to bounce off the walls forever,
a euphony ohne worte, a song without words,
where one person plays two voices
and it sounds good.

Luke enjoys cooking tofu, qualitative research, IU’s prolific body of work, and playing video games with faraway friends. Is also an M1 at UCSD. Hopes to make some music soon. One time.