The piano is a pleasant monster.
It can take your hand for a walk in woods,
portray a bouquet of flowers on table,
deconstruct the contours of your aura,
transform your ear into a gutter in storm.
The piano is a leaping monster.
Some even open it up
to tickle its insides for childish laughter;
it can easily paint a smile
on your face, lungs, or buttocks.
The piano is a legendary monster.
It may make your toes wiggle
or compel you to dance on wood.
Oh, how it loves to be
Ensconced by old wood!
The piano is a sentimental monster.
Speaking ten thousand languages,
it can split a heart in two
like an ax cleaving a birch log.
Or make you wonder who you are.
The piano is a tsunami monster.
It can bring tears to your nose
or flood your heart with emotions
that drown all noble thoughts
in forgotten memories.
The piano is a mythic monster.
It can conjure demons and saints,
images of infancy or lovers talking.
It is a time-traveling globe trotter
that can even demolish time itself.
The piano is a sleeping monster.
When mute it may invoke chords
that silently tremble in air:
arabesques of notes falling on petals.
The piano is the Sabbath of sunlight.