Curtsey, my leg
pressed bent beneath
my body The ivory
keys above my head
One two three
one two three
keep time
metronomes help
white eyelets
brushed knees
the stage,
Thunder in my ears
D minor
A major
My First Sonatina
Mother said,
bow low, bow
frequently
gauge the thunder
The curls, the bow
on your back
vertical sharp
a smooth ninety
degrees not forty-five
pointing chin
stiff nod
glazing over
curtseys
I still carry
tucked neatly away
Kristine Leja is a recent graduate of the University of Illinois at
Chicago. Email: trixies_star@hotmail.com