Scales
By Samuel Cornett
Touching, touching, move up on up 3 up go
down and look and feel and go to the
line, though you cannot hear it like your
teacher, with her experience, can hear it:
as it moves clack the wrist alone; swim up to your up
voice as the keys lick tones; point all down.
Oh black and white imperfection
Oh gray blasted ugly tones oh ebony wrist movement
Tense, though beautiful, touching, touching,
Move one up two up down and go
Down and up and look and feel and go
Go-to-clack-feel-and-up-to-go
love-with-some
hard-knock harp
of polished dimension.
Ha, ha, pressing and tickling, in long
line fashion.
Moving, touching, leave me and go; hurt my
hands softly, softly disappear from me
Fingers hit hammers soft-hard lineate
the shapes of rectangles into hammers
clack until
ebony-eyed light white impersonal
pulling, although saddened, pulling in some
tickling, but still clacking, though felt, way; pulling
up, up, up, up, up, and, up, up—
to resolution.
The Trinity Review 