lento con gran espressione


i play chopin.

the heat from my fingers

radiate onto cold ivory keys. hammers


slam down onto strings

producing chaos, competing

with heavy raindrops. chords

discordant. scales


rambunctious. ornaments

bludgeoned. cadence

destroyed. clearly,

music i do not do, as chopin sluggishly



over in his grave-

 See you later, Roma!

See you later, Roma!