it’s in the way Glenn Gould’s lips move

around the notes

sound reaching out into air, just

beyond him

he must catch it

draw it back into his body

tight and bent

 

in the attack of even the most piano

of pianos which bores down center

lost and falling and weighted

then flits out, released from the

dark, the moment just before the sound

 

that moment, there

before sound happens,

trapped within flakes of snow

on a cold still day, disturbed

 

the unceasing battle

between hands, which one gets the

moment before sound,

and which after,

which demands the sharp

which the fifth

which the fattest chord

which the sostenuto

 

we are vocal chords and

we are plucked chords

we are the vibrato of body at seeming rest

here we become most primal

closest to the earth and of necessity

without sight

 

by Sarah D’Stair

 

Sarah D’Stair’s interests include starring in punk music videos, catching up on old episodes of Rumpole of the Bailey, and avoiding the digital revolution. She is the author of Roulettetown (Kuboa 2011) and Petrov Petrovich Is in Love (Kuboa 2016), and is currently a graduate student writing a dissertation on a subject of sublime importance.

%d bloggers like this: