Heather Winters

Elegy

The radio tells us that it is
the harshest winter on record

so you say it must be done
and fetch your axe to carve

up my piano for kindling. I
watch in silence, circling,

collect the keys from the
carcass and tie them together

with string to bury later in the
woods. Late at night we lie

down in front of the fire and
listen to the sound of Chopin

burning and I do not forgive you.

The Kindling