Tempered Clavier

by Delilah Silberman





Now, to sing this lovely ballad, here

is me. If I could choose to be anything, I would be you

in the supermarket. Call me baby and I’ll slim

down. In my bed, you are colorless. You’re so beautiful,

you’re so blue. The things I hate the most about ballads

are: pianos. And I stopped playing piano.

My newer lover asked me to stop grinding my teeth and I said

no with blue-hot deviance. In Krakow, 1939, Joseph takes out his

dentures. I stopped at night to brush my teeth with

a knife. In bed you are turning pink, my mother’s favorite

color. On the grocery list there are: 2 cans of green peas &

Molly McButter Butter Flakes & an AK47. Crowded market, hello,

monsieur! I wish I had gone to Paris, but we could

hardly afford private school. I remember everyone

grinding in 6th grade, thinking that we might all marry each

other’s mothers. The dance floor was packed, and Joseph

never did get to leave Poland. I was lonely before I met you,

chose someone else over you that night, still gagged

in the bathroom with a candy gorge. If Karen Carpenter

had eaten Mama Cass’s sandwich, they would both be alive.

That’s a joke. I’ve eaten five sandwiches

and none and still love superstars. Will you pollute

my body before you throw it in the river? I would like

to be remembered as the biggest cause of rising

sea-levels. Would you make dinner out of my

sister-in-law? Would you make dinner for my sister? I am a crack-

ed head under a playground swing. I am forgetful of most

events that happened from ages 5 to 10. I call up dad.

I call up uncle. I ask for more time. The worst

would be if I was forced to relearn the white piano.

Curious, I return to the playground. Keep scraping

my knee and go blind on the sidewalk

when my head lands against it,

then looking up, I see the Milky Way.





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