{"id":109517,"date":"2022-06-25T12:48:58","date_gmt":"2022-06-25T16:48:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/?p=109517"},"modified":"2022-07-08T16:35:20","modified_gmt":"2022-07-08T20:35:20","slug":"the-piano-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2022\/06\/the-piano-2\/","title":{"rendered":"The Piano &#8211; hour FOUR"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>My piano is an old Wurlitzer my grandfather<\/p>\n<p>won in a poker game and<\/p>\n<p>nearly sent my grandmother over the edge<\/p>\n<p>when he brought it home at 3am.<\/p>\n<p>It sits in my living room getting even older.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The keys are losing their action and<\/p>\n<p>their ivory &#8212; authentic, not the white plastic they<\/p>\n<p>use nowadays &#8212; has yellowed in places,<\/p>\n<p>chipped in others but<\/p>\n<p>I keep it all anyway, the way I keep other<\/p>\n<p>memories that aren&#8217;t mine yet<\/p>\n<p>claim me.\u00a0 I am the Grand<\/p>\n<p>Curator of stories not my own.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I sift through the photos from<\/p>\n<p>my mother, tucked into cardboard<\/p>\n<p>albums softened over decades.<\/p>\n<p>Strangers smile back at me. My mother, slim and twenty,<\/p>\n<p>among them.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>I have sheet music from my father and<\/p>\n<p>I play their tunes and hear his voice but<\/p>\n<p>it&#8217;s the made-up voice of 30s dance halls and 40s big bands<\/p>\n<p>and 50s musicals where the boy gets the girl in the end.<\/p>\n<p>He used too much pedal when he played them and it used to<\/p>\n<p>make me laugh the way the notes would<\/p>\n<p>wash into each other<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>the way these thoughts wash into each other.<\/p>\n<p>One superseding another. One eddying into another&#8217;s surge<\/p>\n<p>eroding both. Leaving me with this<\/p>\n<p>keyboard and these wraiths that aren&#8217;t mine but<\/p>\n<p>are what I have.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>My piano is an old Wurlitzer my grandfather won in a poker game and nearly sent my grandmother over the edge when he brought it home at 3am. It sits in my living room getting even older. &nbsp; The keys are losing their action and&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4534,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-109517","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem","category-miscellaneous"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109517","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4534"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=109517"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109517\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":124781,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/109517\/revisions\/124781"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=109517"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=109517"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=109517"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}