You can push against the current but
The water is not displaced; it must be
You who moves

 You can press the keys into the
Wood, and maybe they’ll resonate or
Open a vector to some other place paved
Of violet-scented hues, restless
In the sheets, perched on the hot wax

Air so clean you taste
Dawn on your tongue
Liquid syrupy, cream delighted
To slide past that instrument
Those keys unlocking
Each sound unpacking whatever
Blocks that block the entryway

Why would you bar up against
The sounds of this? They’re only
Sounds. Why would you not dare
To play the machine, to unblock your
Boxed-in door? Say you’re sorry or
Preparing for some day when
The current will let you go