doctor, doctor, where’s the doctor
wringing wet the woman hollers
bandage wrapped around her hand
collapses as they run to help her
help her up and offer water
did somebody call the doctor
loud machines so foreign to her
sent her splashing red against the wall
as her fingers fall
in the back a black piano
sits in silence what do we know
of it’s past and of a time
and of the place it occupied
in the parlor with the daughter
playing for her drunken father
listening until he cried
you hear it echo out into the hall
as her fingers fall
in a bra and underwear
she’s balanced now upon a chair
a letter written, tucked inside
a paperback, the rope is tied
around her neck and through the rafters
this is it. she’ll show the bastards
everything she said was true
and now she’ll be the envy of them all
as her fingers fall
