The next poem says in my book that it's for my father,
but tonight it's for Mary and Michael Cuddihy.
The name of the poem is "Clair de Lune",
and it's for them because, not just the poem,
but that piece of music is one that we've loved.
"I play the notes, familiar old water song.
Dray horse of grade school recitals,
leading children to water, to that Mediterranean of music.
French, engulfed like a cathedral, a rose window.
Joy of the hands, each finger a body.
Ten musicians performing a chamber concert
for the perfect audience of two ears, alone in my empty hall.
And now the moon rises over the water,
as it was meant to so many years ago.
My small head setting slowly in the hardwood
of my father's piano."