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El Guitarrista
conjugating French verbs,
les verbes subjonctifs et conditionels,
to say how I’d feel, if I only could,
I once studied an old musician pinned
to the side of an art history classroom
angular and blue
threadbare, blind, aging
left shoulder left bare by a hole
ripped in his simple garment
the facts of his forever darkened eyes,
his ramshackle poverty,
were eclipsed by the truth:
he was strong and centered
on legs crossed beneath an hourglass of wood
his beloved, solidly cradled in his long arms;
he kept his white-haired head
cocked sideways to her, his ear open
to the patterns of her strings:
his spine tall, ragged and elegant,
buttressed by the grace
of a warm orange guitar
conjugating Spanish verbs,
espero y sí, yo lo creo:
(I hope and yes, I do believe)
I studied a young musician pinned
to the side of a full moon campfire
shadowy rough and lean, dark yellow lit;
for all his pretense of toughness
green with uncertainties
like wayward embers popping and sifting
in the August wind,
acrid flames dwindling:
having gathered up fallen regrets,
so many scattered branches,
he pondered which hard facts to bury away
like heisted diamonds in a drunken pirate’s chest,
and which sins to turn to kindling;
how he might mourn their sweet and sour
incineration, embracing the tension
of dried wood and steel strings:
his spine tall, ragged and elegant,
buttressed by the grace
of a cool orange guitar
KEB
September 2004 |
