The piano at church was darker than the pews
and had old yellow keys,
and when the lady played on Sunday
the whole room changed to me.
It was still the same white walls and coats
and mothers with their hats,
same stiff collars, same hard shoes,
same little girls with bows in back.
Still, music made it all seem wider.
I do not know how else to say it.
Like if a room was only a room,
then a song came in and made a place inside it.
I watched her hands more than I listened,
which sounds backward, but it’s true.
I liked how something I could not hold
could still move through a person
right into you.