by Lori Weber
to the piano that sits in a circle
of light, the lid open
like an archway
above
her.
She sits still for a few
minutes, as if she is
frozen, then her
hands rise
over the
keys.
At first, the music is soft,
staying on the stage,
then slowly it rolls
out, over the
crowd, like
fog.
Suddenly, we are surrounded
by Mary’s music, the notes
flowing between us
around us and
inside us.
When she stops, we all want to clap
but hesitate, as if it would be too
rude to cut into the music that
keeps resonating long
after Mary has
left the
stage.
I float my way back to our booth,
its top filled with flyers
about ugly things,
And for a long time I don’t
want to look
down.
Lights
Christopher
When I’m at the board
I feel
Like I’m master of a
universe,
Each slider and switch
a star
That I oversee, like
Galileo.
I promised Annabelle
I’d give
Mary the greatest light
of all,
And I think I fulfilled
that promise.
But will Annabelle give me
any credit?
Empty
Mark's Mom
Staring at your empty bed,
I think of the day
your cat died.
You fell asleep hugging
the hot water bottle
to your chest.
In the morning, I emptied it,
the water pumping out
like a beating heart.
Now, wondering where
you are, my heart
gushes the same way
Emptying, leaving me
full of nothing
but fear.
What are you doing
out there, alone
in your crazy car?
All night—no return
no phone call
no sign of life.
If your father could see
what you are doing to me,
he would kill you,
But that’s exactly
what you may be doing
to yourself.
Ideals
Annabelle
My mom stops at our booth
during Intermission.
I watch the way her eyes glance
over the pamphlets
Like she doesn’t really want
to take them in
But then one catches her eye:
Carpet Weaving.
And I wonder if it’s because she’s always
going on about carpets,
How they can make or break a sale
in someone’s home.
I watch her open it and read about
Iqbal Masih,
A carpet weaver in Pakistan who started
working at age four
Ran away at ten, then was shot and killed
at twelve.
She stands and reads it for a long time,
her face growing red
As she learns how he risked his life
by talking
About the evils of bonded labour
all over the world.
When she’s finished, she tucks it into
her purse,
Turns to Mr. Dawe, shakes his hand
and thanks him
For all the wonderful work
he is doing.
I just about fall of my chair because
I remember
Her saying that ideals don’t pay
the rent.
Now, I wonder if, when she’s walking
strangers
Through beautiful homes, her high heels
echoing
off the ceilings like trapped birds,
her mind
Does wander to other things; if, when she’s
smiling and quoting
Prices on new roofs and marble counter tops
her mind
Does wonder about things she can’t afford
to dwell on
Because she has to make that sale:
it’s how we eat.
First Time
Mary's Mom
Watching the show, I finally got it:
your ability to shut every-
thing out.
Tonight, I stopped fighting
your piano and just
listened.
For once, I was inside your music,
instead of outside,
wanting in.
Tonight I could see that your playing
has nothing to do
with me
That playing the piano is not something
you are doing
to me.
It is entirely yours, completely separate
from anything I can
control.
Super Charged
Annabelle
I sneak back inside during
a dance number.
Christopher’s lights are bouncing
off the dancer’s feet—
Yellow and blue, with streaks
of silver on the back wall.
I think of the show Christopher
described at the Planetarium.
He wants to spend both evenings there
under the galaxy
Watching the universe
dance across the dome
Instead of sitting in diners
with me and the others, like I pictured,
The two of us leaning close,
planning to change the world.
His face in the booth is super-charged,
smiling wide above the board
Like I’ve never seen him smile
near the stores
And I wonder if I was wrong
to expect him to want
The same things
as me.
BIG WHITE SMILE
Mark
The Mini’s high beams are not very strong,
but they’re all I’ve got to steer me off
this road and onto the highway.
Branches grab the car like claws
that want to catch me and take me
hostage deep inside the woods.
Owls hoot and wolves howl
like the whole forest is pissed
off that I am here, intruding.
.
I knew it was time to go when the clouds cleared,
uncovering a crescent moon that hung
like a big white smile in the sky.
My dad’s key was shiny in the ground
at my feet and I could almost feel his hand
squeezing my shoulder, saying thanks.
Control
Christopher
I thought I might have blown my chance of being
in New York
in love with
Annabelle
My dad gave me the tal
k on
respecting
her body
and my own,
Like I don’t have any self-control
and will pounce
the minute
we’re alone.
Still, when I pictured the two of us
late at night
temptation
closing in,
It was hard not to think about
undressing
caressing
messing with
Annabelle. I thought I lost her by
revealing
my real
intentions,
But when she looked up at the booth
it struck me
hard – like a
ray of hope.
Eclipse
Stacey
It worked like
I knew it would:
Mary all in
white
like the full moon
that was the only thing
keeping me company
last week in the woods.
No one knew
I did it.
It’s not like
I could hang
a sign
around her neck
for everyone to see:
designed by Stacey.
Especially
for my parents
who were sitting
out there watching,
looking sad
because they weren’t sure
I was backstage
working.
It’s not like
I could announce
where I was going,
suddenly
keeping them
informed
and in the loop
of my life.
They always look
so lost,
like my sister’s leaving
turned their smiles
upside down
and nothing I have done
has helped to flip them
right side up again.
I wonder if
they’ll look that way
forever now, never
laughing, never
light-hearted,
always heavy
always hurting
always wondering
Why their daughters
were so hard
to raise and
didn’t seem
to give a shit
about anyone
else’s feelings
but their own.
Sometimes
I think if
they would just smile more,
forget my sister and focus
on here and now,
show some sign
of wanting
to be happy
I’d come round
and spend time
with them, instead
of always running
as far away as I can
to escape their sadness,
their shrugged shoulders
and their brick-like guilt.
When the crew
takes a bow
I look right into
their eyes,
our first contact
in ages,
to show them
I am here.
That’s when I see their
smiles, slight but there,
and I know the reason
they came was
to try to see me,
like a rare
eclipse
of the sun.
Trionfale
Triumphant
Mary
Chopin knew he’d done well
when he could say
That he had played as he played
when he was alone.
Tonight, I think I can say
just that.
Fine
Relief
Stacey's Mom
Tonight reminded me
of school concerts
when she was little and
full of bounce
Up on stage, twirling and
bursting with song,
the fastest reindeer, the
the brightest star
And I would think, that’s my
girl, sprung from me
with such perfection in
every cell.
I’d be the first to leap
to my feet for
for the standing O, blowing
her kisses.
Tonight I didn’t stand,
but I was caught
by the beam of her eyes
piercing mine.
Relief flooded through me
just to know she
was safe and not roaming
in that car
No bigger than a bug,
no protection
in a crash, no escaping
her boyfriend.
I could feel her dad
caught beside me,
pulling pictures from his
memory,
Opening them slowly,
holding his breath,
as though he was scared of
what he’d see.
Syncopation
Unexpected emphasis on weak beats
Mary
I can go to the
cast party now,
because I am one of
the gang.
I don’t need to turn
my shoulders in
and shy away from
people.
Even if I just sit
in a corner and watch
the action and absorb
the fun
I’ll still be okay,
because people look at me
differently now, not
the same
As before when they
didn’t know me,
didn’t know my
music
And just saw me as
some weirdo who never
talked or played
the game
That everyone my age
is supposed to play:
pretending and posing,
the art
Of making yourself
someone who everyone
else wants to get to know,
the way
Stacey does, like a pro,
although tonight she seemed
different, not her usual
loud self.
She even asked me
to wait up for her so we
could walk together to the
party,
Which made me look
around, like maybe
I didn’t get
the joke,
But there was no one around,
just the two of us in the hallway,
eerily quiet and still after
the show.
Hope
Annabelle
They walk off, practically holding hands,
Stacey breathing down Mary’s neck,
Like Mary is suddenly her closest friend
and not someone she likes to call
Roly-poly freak girl
whenever she gets the chance.
I want to follow them, hide
behind trees and mailboxes
Like Nancy Drew, girl detective,
but I can’t because I have to help
Mr. Dawe put a
way the stuff
from our booth.
I hope the hug I gave Mary
earlier, after the show, will act as a kind of
Suit of armour, keeping her safe when Stacey
turns back into herself.
I was hoping Christopher would drop by
but why would he?
I didn’t exactly make him think
I wanted him to.
I hope the look I gave Christopher earlier,
before the show, won’t act as kind of
Shield, keeping him away
from me.
Empty
Christopher
We didn’t make plans
to meet
But I go look for Annabelle after the
clean up
Once all our gear is locked
away.
The info booth is
empty,
Nothing remains, not even a
pamphlet
Or petitition or
cupcake
All the things she worked so
hard on.
The bare table in the
dark hall
Reminds me how
I’d feel
Without her in
my life.
Strepitoso
Noisy, boisterous
Mary
Wood-paneled
basement
beer boxes
filling
with empties
pool-table
shaking
music
pounding
laughing
buzzing
smoky
corners
bodies
on stairs
screams
outside
more bodies
squeezing in
less and less space
less and less air
firecrackers
exploding
doors
slamming
kids
crying
floating by
Stacey vanished
and suddenly
I want
to be
above ground
where there’s
air and space
and no
noise or
people
Only me
myself
and I.
I tried this scene
but it’s
definitely
not mine.
EXPERIENCE
Mr. Dawe
These kids are
ready, eager
for meaning.
I could see it
in the way
they ran the booth
And sold the treats
to raise money
during the show.
