trout

Four photographs of a piano: 1

Gymnopédie

Chris Price  

The piano is a whole room –
empty, but for a rose
and cream striped sofa

at one end, far away
across the burnished parquet.
Through French windows

a garden is about to tilt
from summer into the louche
arms of autumn, and

Josephine in, oh, her middle
thirties hears the voices
of her children rising

from the end
of the lawn, the first leaf
already fallen

on heavy grass.
Her beaded Empire gown
whispers its shallow

A, and tendrils of hair
eluding her coiffure form
grace notes in the composition

of her face. She turns
towards the doors, sees
in a languid beam

dust motets
gauzing sunlight,
exploring the acoustic.

The voices rise
and fade, the room empties
at close of play

but the piano remains
one artfully placed
piece of furniture.