Charles Fishman

 
Chopin's Piano


 
On September 19, 1863, 14 years
after his death, Russian soldiers . . .
in Warsaw hurled {Chopin’s} piano
to the street from a fourth-floor window.

 
 
We were not there to hear it
and all the witnesses are gone
 
but the sound of that falling lingers
 
They came at dawn to play it
and were deafened by the drone
 
We were not there to hear it
 
Not a chord could please the ear
each note jarred to the bone
 
We were not there to hear it
 
But such maestros tire soon:
they would write mazurkas   études
 
with bayonets and guns
 
We were not there to hear it
but we’ve learned the tune.

 
What was that crash - its hood lifting
and slamming down?  And what is that loud
insistent clanking - doors jimmied off
and awkwardly dropped?  Is that a horn
sounding in the night or something darker
that needs to speak?