Jazz on a Broken Piano

Phil Isherwood

A failure from the start, for sure,
since broken keys and pedals
would cause the concert’s ruin.
They got it wrong. Say no.

Say ‘not until it’s fixed and fit
to play its part’. There is anger.
There is sadness in the spoiling.
Yet, there is the love of music.

Begin. A single note sustains,
becomes a stream of chords
around the brokenness. Listen.
To improvise is to surrender,

in torrents of sound, intimacy,
tender themes, there comes an
intensity of dreams. And then.
Never ending, never beginning.

I am broken in the grace of loss.
Hands outside of time reveal a
Place to be, to listen, to accept.
Here, there is the love of music.

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