Under the Piano

Under the Piano I editThe piano’s shawl hides me. Mom comes in and turns on the record player. Famous Opera Arias. Her favorite. The love seat’s plastic squishes when she sits down. She’s wearing her blue socks. The thick itchy ones. I stick my thumb in my mouth and close my eyes. Mom’s record screeches out La donna è mobile. She thinks I scratched it but I didn’t. Here it comes. La —- mobile. Mom sighs. It’s the needle’s fault. It made the scratch, not me. I want to tell her. But I don’t. Liar, she’d say. I don’t care. I’m invisible. Under the piano.

Roberta Beary’s most recent book Deflection is a collection of prose poems. She tweets her photoku @shortpoemz.

Photo credit: Will Folsom

2 Responses to “Under the Piano”

  1. Dasheek says:

    Very interesting. I wonder, what is it about
    the piano that makes one invisible. It reminds me of being a child hiding in clothing racks in department stores.
    I love the line “I stick my thumb in my mouth and close my eyes”.

    It really draws the reader to question the actor’s age.

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