Katherine Givens

With a flick of the wrist
the protégé begins the ode.
Perfectly manicured hands
make love to the ivory keys.
Absorbed by the labor
of performing each note
with absolute perfection,
a dribble of sweat streaks
her scrunched forehead.
By time the last chord
has been definitively struck,
the protégé folded her hands
into her lap and bowed her head.
The applause from the onlookers
is filled with sincere gratitude
for being allowed to hear such beauty,
but the praise is deflected
by the weary mind of the genius.