Eulogy

The piano was the first to move.

I scoured the counter as it creaked

through the living room

and heaved out the front door

into the bucket of the Allis.

My back was turned when it fell

face-first onto the burn pile.

I didn’t watch him douse it with gasoline

nor strike the match,

but as I tugged laundry off the line

smoke billowed like the black clouds overhead.

We huddled in the basement

beneath the threat of a tornado,

the rush of rain,

the smatter of hail.

When I ventured up and peered out,

it was still glowing at the far end of the yard,

hailstones thrumming the charred strings…

the last of a century’s worth of songs.