TRAINED IN GUITAR PLAYING

The right hand has a white scar

running from index to little finger

in a slanted rugged line

reminding me to never again climb a roof

of corrugated steel or hold onto its edge

so easy to slip and slide toward the ladder

steel cutting like a sharp knife the whole way.

My left hand cupped a bowl of fresh blood. Took

me ten years to bend the fingers into my palm.

No extra ice cream money from doing dishes

but I can write with it and thumb to ring

finger can do a damn fast cool arpeggio.

The little finger on the left is a prime player

strong and eager, the leader of the pack

the edge of that hand a map of years

of hard labor and controlled effort. When

I line the hands up palm to palm and fan

out my fingers, the little finger on the left

sticks out an extra half an inch after years

of practicing, reaching for that demanding 

note, distinct, desired, yet a full five frets away.

PUBLISHED IN THE MACGUFFIN, FALL 2022, VOL. XXXVIII, NO. 2