The Organist

Arms and legs,
like a dancing octopus.
Shafts of sun cast rays asunder.
A left hand raised to heaven,
a pause,
and down it thunders, to the keys.
Dee minor, shatters the glass air.
Stained windows shake with fear.
The master gyrates,
his universe rotating
on his own golden plate.

How like a God!
How giant!
Digits contort and flitter in short stabs.
Legs clatter, and pulse.
The air hums,
thick as if under water,
through our chest.
The low notes are best.

As high speed, he races.
Twelve fingers, or more!
Faster than an eagle's pounce,
the ounces of Bach fly skyward.
Gold shards, casting shadows in the shafts.
They crash down to the stone,
and ring out
with a joyous triumphal shout.

Hands rise and slam
in glorious chord.

Amen.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.