A try at counter counter point
for gramma
Shifting plates of constellations, push of points into point against point after point against point. She sits straight & strong & fading. Plays precise with movements, yet with the mistakes, with the faults of shifting plate tectonic, grind of time inside the bones & skin & matter of her core. Presses piano into piano keys. Grandson, grown & in another room, not far, steps only, away. Spacetime curves perverted, the bodies one of grandson & one of grandma, into awful counterpoints of distances. She plays, already hardly there, no more; he hears both totally his memory & sees her fully in his sight; straight back, slender spotted hands, proud touch & smile. she forces point & counterpoint; she grabs him by the throat with memories of memory & distinct & precise charges staccato rushing, changing routes of veins; general rewiring; & tightening of cables where they were before unnoticed in their grind & chafe. He holds her in his arms smaller than a tiny human animal, becoming indiscernible, in singular position made purely up of speed, traverses infinite, condenses vibrant into being,
Heel lief, dank je.