To Glenn Gould

Tout doucement, tu prends ma main,
I don’t like it when my fingers are cold,
Cherie, t’as aucune chance.
Entangled between yours, my muscles are tense.

Je soupire, en esperant que tu ne devines pas,
A run would be difficult, and octaves impossible,
Tu te contentes quand meme que je suis venue.
I could force them into a chord or two.

Tu m’embrasses, une, deux, trois fois,
Paralysed now, they are numb to the pain,
Je m’abandonne a toi par politesse.
I surrendered their warmth, what else?

Je m’oublie; il ne peut jamais savoir.
Next time, I’ll just wear gloves.

________________________________________________

Anahita Jalilvand is a fourth-year student at Loyola University Chicago and has just begun publishing her work. While she is currently studying Biochemistry and French, she is also a pianist and draws most of the inspiration for her poetry from her musical experiences.