All those gold leaves

My piano coat unbuttoned
and all my pianos fell into the leaves.
I was picking up pianos for hours
when you walked past
your skin glowed like a loud dog.
In your smile this dog had a fence
to push his face up against.
What happiness he barked.
With pianos filling my arms
I followed through the neighborhood
and up onto the dark green porch of your home.
I stood in the doorway
and because they wouldn’t fit through the frame
I laid the pianos in piles outside.
You led me up the stairs into your room.
All our robbers were asleep
in a different part of the house.
We lay in your bed like cash bills after a heist
and listened hard
to hear if the pianos
had been playing the whole time.
This happened in the fall.

—ANIS MOJGANI