you shall love your crooked neighbor

piano | patrick phillips

touched by your goodness, i am like
that grand piano we found one night on willoughby
that someone had smashed and somehow
heaved through an open window.

and you might think by this i mean i’m broken
or abandoned, or unloved. truth is, i don’t 
know exactly what i am, any more
than the wreckage in the alley knows
it’s a piano, filling with trash and yellow leaves.

maybe i’m all that’s left of what i was.
but touching me, i know, you are the good
breeze blowing across its rusted strings.

what would you call that feeling when the wood,
even with its cracked harp, starts to sing?

(Source: eating-poetry)

  1. loveyourcrookedneighbor posted this
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