Playing Hymns

Playing Hymns

Where two apples rot in the fridge drawer
an echo, muffled by some Tupperware,
crawls under the swinging door
        from the upright in the dining room.
Solemn chords of a death march
        descend and ascend
until the learner hits a sour note
        and goes back two bars.
Rest.
        The fridge gurgles again.
A door slams on the far side
        of the duplex.
He plays it right only on the third try.
        The fridge rattles to a halt.