C Sharp

The radio played the Bach suite

and I almost burned the toast.

That particular C sharp is a bruise

I forgot I was carrying.

I saw his car today, that dented tan thing,

idling in the fire lane by the community center.

He looked older, but I still saw the red pen

slashing through the measure where I tried

to make the cello sound like it was breathing.

"Too much," he said, and drew the line

so hard the paper almost tore.

I haven't touched the bow in a decade.

I just listen and get angry at the air.