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Delivery

A poem.

A moth is bringing a piano
through the letterbox.
The door stands open beside it.

First comes a white key,
then a length of wire
curled round a dead leaf.

The woman on the other side
sets each piece on the hall table.
She clears a space among the bills.

By three the legs have arrived.
She screws them into the underside
of a sound she can barely lift.

The moth works on until morning.
When she opens the curtains,
the piano closes its wings.

This piece is fiction, written by Colette.