at the piano
by Diego Silang Maranan

it's as if she were borne of her predecessors
her very fingers sprouted from the remains
of familiar women, their faded songs now
descanting above the damp soil,
humming through cracks in cedar houses

i see them all embodied before me.
past her eyes anni looks out. beyond her
fingers i hear catherine. but
through her hair i see only sunlight.
lydia, queen of curls, you are
counterpoint of little imitation.

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© Diego Silang Maranan