We fought long about the piano, what to do?
How do you get it up the stairs and out?
Dating back to the century’s start

This upright is no easy cargo, eventually we
Decide to leave it behind — for whoever buys
The house we five grew in and in which our

Parents died. Left in the basement for the rest of time
Our lives move on ferried out to some new place;
Knowing even then we will not come back.

I got the stamps and my father’s shirts;
My little brother stole his ring.
He was supposed to be buried with it.

We tossed the Funk and Wagnall’s
We used to write reports that cost
A buck a piece at the grocery store.

But it was that damned piano
Left behind, so sadly out of tune
Memories too far gone to touch.

Peter Shaheen is a regular guy who wishes he were younger, better looking, and a better poet. He is learning to settle.