Workday New York

by Carol Schoen

Crushed between copy center
and a hardware store, the violin maker’s shop,
a dusty counter, signed photos of famous artists,
hides a short passage to a tiny room:
glamorous with crystal chandelier, bubbles
of light bursting against the gold rimmed
mirror, forty-five lyre
backed chairs, the stage
a white gem, glitter trimmed,
piano, empty chair, music

the cellist thrusts the bow
into the dark chords, angry
notes clamor against the piano’s
stern restraint; a plaintive theme
hovers under the storm,
rises, blossoms, sighs, whispers.

the audience: the hardware
store owner, three workmen
from the construction
site next door, friends, me;
28th street transformed.

Carol Schoen wrote her first poems for Sarah White’s study group and has been chugging along happily ever since.