her blue guitar leans in the
corner
against the stereo speaker
where she placed it
she liked as she used to tell him in bed after they
made love how invisible fingers
radiating from the speaker held
it stroked it strings played impossible chords
the guitar sounded so different
shed never be able to recreate
that music imagine or remember it
she said often the music was in
accord to the music hed play during their lazy afternoons together
his imperfect scratched
78s the keenly-guarded refined 33 1/3s and those raucous 45s
she loved the echoes in her
guitar its reverberations slipping like
snakes in its chamber
she loved how the wind moving
through the house visited it too
those days when she complained it was too cold and why
did he have to have the house open
and on those days when the
house was too hot
and the overhead fanblades were desperate to have their go at it
and the days since
when she hadnt been there to complain
and the overhead fanblades were desperate to have their go at it
and the days since
when she hadnt been there to complain
but he would imagine she did
imagine all the qualities of her voiceits timbre and tone
imagine all the qualities of her voiceits timbre and tone
when she was elated
or distraught
when she was dreamy and
contemplative
or singing with her eyes closed
all her persons he loved and didnt that she shared with him every moment they improbably had
without thought hesitation or reservation
they figuring improbably that they would always have
stretched across the wide warm gulf of their living together
they figuring improbably that they would always have
stretched across the wide warm gulf of their living together
and now the sound hole of her guitar
seemed far far larger for each
and every day
they didnt have
he was jealous of her guitar
her fingerprints her tentarch orweretheywhorls invisibly etched onto its strings
its frets and tuning keys
her oils and
scent on it
they were gone from him
his midnight showers eroded
them from his skin its streams of water deafening his ears so he couldnt hear his crying or feel his hot tears running down his face
deafening him
a reason he fingered
because he could no longer hear her
deafening him
a reason he fingered
because he could no longer hear her
hear her voices
feel her touch
feel her touch
blue
her blue guitar
leaning dusty at the speaker
near the albums and
jackets and paper slips brittlely
ageing yellowing without the kiss of sunlight
as he
as he
without her kisses
warm touches
reviving strokes
blue
blue
1502, Clover Sunday, 1 6.
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