The Glass Piano Poem by Teacher Kevin

There is a glass piano in my throat that wants to play a high C
but I swallow gravel instead and keep the gears grinding.
I tell it, shut up, we have a reputation for silence.
we have a world that likes us unbreakable.

there is a glass piano in my throat
and I douse the keys in black coffee and the sour grit of old jokes
so the neighbors and the landlord and the woman at the toll booth
only hear the rattle of a cold engine and never the music down there.

I am too smart for the song or rather too shy.
I say, stay still, do you want to break the lease?
You want to make them think I'm made of something that can shatter?
You want to ruin the look in my eye that says I've seen it all?

I only let the hammers strike at four in the morning,
when the streetlights flicker and the ego is too tired to sentry.
I whisper, I hear you, don't break just yet.
then I wrap it in wool and lead, but the chords still hum in the marrow,
I haven't quite muted the strings.