I tell my piano the things I used to tell you
Her ears are secretive like bells,
she hears their devotions every day.
Tonight is delicate, under both hands,
as Chopin stills the air.
Accepting all the hearts that break,
she shakes out scores behind churches,
in dresses of paper,
to tear off, tremble and weigh.
Tender harps sparked some children,
who know how to sing their way back,
making crumbs of sound to clean up,
fix up and thank you.
The title of the poem is drawn from a quote by Fryderyk Chopin - "It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you."
