The precise child
Beneath the projection screen that slightly larger than 1:1
shows a girl precisely playing the piano, a girl
smaller than 1:1 sits precisely playing the piano.
The smooth black hair cut with a ruler
She cannot play and smile at the same time.
Can anyone take the meticulous child back home?
Under her frock a red pleated petticoat can now
be seen. It is the hem of a curtain
that is to divide the playing from the world.
When a poet between ice floes of MDF on the forestage
happens to say: ‘Fathers. How to touch them?’
I do not know where the performance begins.
I fondle 1:1 the grey hair of the man sitting in front of me.
He doesn’t look round. Perhaps people stroke his hair
quite often. The piano plays a girl a girl.