by Dane Karnick

During my initial tour
Of Sunday school class
My anxious legs stopped
At an upright piano

With the Head of Christ resting
Above the keyboard cover
His Sallman gaze toward heaven
Locked my eyes in regard

Like no other face I’d seen
In my first ten years of life
The yelps of kids vanished
Around that black monolith

Until Mom’s hand yanked mine
I could hear children again
As her hand rushed mine
Back to where fingers should go

---

Dane Karnick grew up by the Colorado “Rockies” and lives in Treasure Valley, Idaho. His poetry has appeared in such publications as One Art and El Portal.