Of the 2nd movement
Of Shostakovich’s 2nd
Piano Concerto in the middle
Of a confounding day
Searching for something else
And then playing it over
And over how he places the notes
Fragmentary but tenderly
As if speaking to a child
Falling asleep as if here
In this quiet-restless music
He exhumed the old Slavic soul
For a few astonishing moments
Before it was taken
Underground again
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