© 2003-9 mykl g. sivak

Piano for the short drive

She said
this feels like a movie,
chords tapped
gently out in

arpeggio, raindrops
like fingertips.

Secretly, I had chosen
the song to play as we drove,
to simulate a soundtrack
for the short drive

from our parents’ house
to the funeral home,
to match rain
touching pavement.

Only days before,
in the hospital,

his organs impelled
by medical instruments,

yards of plastic tubing,
and electronic boxes,
the EKG pulsed
in unison with

his frail soft heartbeat,
metronome of

some quiet composition.
Then death mechanical,
precise as electronic
sequencer aria,

Mozart transcribed
for Moog, came.

And when the instruments
were silenced, his body
had already died, like
fingers that stop tapping

keys well before
the sound has moved
from speakers
to the ear.