He plays the piano.
I'd like to say
I'd like to lay my head against these keys when you are playing,
I'd like to
Feel these vibrations when you are close to me
(though only when you've closed your eyes in all the laughter of the Bagatelle,
the Valse in three—three, not four, you fool—)
I hear Haydn better through the curve of your back—
Dart of eyes and grace of fingers
So though you have not spoken, I am
All poured out.
There is a subtle change in texture
(Something of Spanish moss to Northern firs)
When you are passionate and I would like to
Dance to these Hungarian Rhapsodies—
Though the need for sanctity is
And when I enter through this unlocked doorway,
The room will be white and hard like the sky outside.
And I will stand—very still—
And you will play.