Hour 4

The Piano Forest

The piano forest
is where I want to grow old.
I haven’t touched its keys,
walked its pathways,
counted its leaves
in a while.

I hold my breath
when I look at green-filtered sunlight
on the mossy floors.
I am a plant, anxiously exchanging
the bright rays for oxygen–confusion.
I wish I was a plant, so I could leave behind
the anxiety and fade into the hills.

Taste the heat, it is
palpable, numbs my tongue.
If I were to be a plant, I’d be desert sage.
Let my wisdom turn the seedlings to trees.

I would be grown through the piano
in the forest, swarm myself onto the strings.
Imagine, the sun shining a light
upon my dead cells transmorphed
into the purple sun-shaped blossoms
that cover all the keys.

I haven’t played in a while,
but I like to imagine that when I do
again, the music will sound
like the mycelium when given a voice.

One thought on “Hour 4

  1. The rich tapestry of imagery you weave together leaves me seeing the colour green behind my eyes as I read through your work. The sense of tension, anxiety and relief flows throughout the stanza’s like the ebb and flow of the tide and the technical understanding of the structure and genus of the plant-life you’re describing makes this poem all the more fascinating.

    DSC
    https://thepoetrymarathon.com/author/dscoremans
    #FoDiByLi

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