volume 14 number 2
by Jo Ann Baldinger
One voice, one hand at a time; Bach made it easy for you.
Consider that you’re nine, like the son for whom these excursions were devised.
Last romp of prehormonal childhood a splendid time for whimsy in a Baroque net.
A battered upright your patient partner. A thick telephone directory
placed atop the piano bench to bring your elbows level with the keys.
Neither shall you hasten nor flag; at any fork, choose lucidity.
Mind your knuckles and your finger pads. Don’t ask why or other questions.
Right now you can’t imagine the pleasure that will come one day
when your hands find again the meeting house swept clear of everything but light.