My cheap Mitchell carelessly broken

mitchell is low end brand of guitar

 

Miss your scent

 

B-Vitamins finger sweat and steel

Wood heated long seated beneath sun

Perspiring scotch spilled on neck

Green like snap peas not collards

When you slipped on dew-grass

Earth from my work arms

Not from the ground of your ancestors

Big body hip on my lap

We didn’t like feel of a strap

 

There were some good times

Hearing you sing

When E - - - - e

I was touching

Reviews

[.]

~ ah, you're a musician... why am i not surprised ? ... this is a beautiful piece... i'm sure that your guitar knows how much you treasured it...

[feminamusica]

the title (and subtitle) of this poem hooked me immediately because I'm a musician too. the poem itself is pure pleasure, a visceral medley of images that had me smiling and hearing your music while lamenting the untimely demise of a unique guitar. nice write!

[Steeven]

and it was a demise at that...i couldn't shake that smell your hands have after playing for hours in the sun.