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  • The Griffin

A Piano Trip to Apparition

By: Briana Wasil

I was trapped in a tomb when I began this trip

Searching for any sounds that resembled a scream

For help or company I can’t explain which

It was the need to breathe a tune that I couldn’t resist

And then came a breeze that lifted the lid

To which I thought was secured-

I’d just bought an elaborate trick-

That held captive years of sound

Never escaped to fully command

Now released to play the subtle spellbound

That unearthed throughout the land

And it’s presence I heard behind my back

Conducting the symphony

Of a thousand beats

Each with a blank unreadable face

That hypnotized the audience in their seats

I became the pianist in the spotlight

With nameless darkness at my heels

Ripped from the soundboard to expose

The fall, boards shield to withhold their keys

As soon as I surrendered to the shadowed throne

My fingers melted into notes,

Whispers imprisoned my feet,

Music transfused with my heart-bleeding-

The crescendo directed my evanescence

Leading to warn the rebirth of my essence.

So whenever there is a piano playing,

With no visible puppeteer,

Beware of this superstition,

Of how the lure of a piano trip

Can be rearranged into an apparition.

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