Diagnosis

last rehearsal,
I saw it in her face
didn't anyone notice?
stricken
distant
terrified?
or just beyond shock
at the velvet threshold of grief

I don't know.
the conductor does, though
obsessive in praising her
asking us to applaud.
her touch at the keyboard,
it is exquisite
even poetic, only...

she gets lost
it's something new
blames the page turn
it's okay—so many voices
the sopranos are rioting
and the show must go on

I will stop noticing now
until the dreaded announcement
a stunned realization
like a stab to the heart.