Bad Piano Practice
Late last night the black keys leapt one note left
and flatted fifths now land too bright, too sharp.
Your fingers twitch while running long bass charts
on cool keys. Practice. Wonder if the next
chord can find its way back to small Mozart
or Powell. Ebony reflects your text.
The sound’s off but music’s lurking in there
hidden behind that repeating dream where
long halls unroll like punched paper. You’re left
by yourself with sound. No one else is there.
Why play to off-key echoes? But your left
hand travels the notes—the monitor of sharps
and flats. Pray the keys can re-learn their parts
and rise once more to a melody left
to your wizard hands by a lonely art.