Poetry: Katherine Leyton

Richard Gere’s Grand Piano

Here, this is it:
you work as a waitress. You
bring people their French toast

and bacon. You can’t pay the hydro bill.
I used to think of you as somebody

grand, like one of those pianos Gere
fucked Roberts on in Pretty Woman.

And that’s the thing – maybe
you are one of those pianos.

Maybe your greatest talent
is sparkling in empty foyers.



Previously featured in Edinburgh Review 134


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