The solitude of a piano

 

The piano plays on a deserted street,

wasting its final notes

to hide the wails of a woman,

a red-haired vixen,

an extra in a troupe of assassins.

Hidden in the alley of miracles,

she seeks absolution from the lava-like shadows

of the past.

A sweet melody by unwary weavers

who capture the attention

of the orderly line of men and women

with the posture of ordinary victims

on a late-night talk show.

The piano’s music envelops

even the sacred vestments

of the priests who scatter incense

to absolve the murderers.

Every day a different note,

every day a color

and faded smiles.

Only music absolves the deeds

of the architects of deceit