She entered the opalescent venue
several minutes before the orchestra.
A lone window’s obvious curtains signaled to her
cacophony of Amsterdam Avenue
competing with the magnificence of this hall.
Backstage someone was fastidiously tuning a violin
as Diana lit a stick of sandalwood.
An ebony Steinway stood regally,
a pristine sentinel buffered on a hill.
Tonight would be for her grandmother,
a frozen Buchenwald hourglass,
“I will perform for Nana tonight”, she had decided.
“Mendelssohn's Piano Concerto No. 1 in G minor, Op. 25”
it seemed survival was all that mattered:
tears migrating from their ducts like refugees,
Hebraic fingers rendering
a three thousand year old thirst.
4/6/2019
Maricopa, AZ