at our fingertips
maybe
you think I don’t understand
the intimacy of music the way a
guitar string moans
when pressed
and
strummed
but I have known those fingers
and
been those strings with my neck
caressed by a single hand
while
the other
worked furiously
at the opening
you may think poetry is less
sensual
but I promise if I go on
simply
explaining
the way a musician plays a guitar
I believe
I could also
make you
sing
Heather Dearmon’s recent poetry appeared in Fall Lines. Her chapbook, Water Unto Light, was published by Finishing Light Press. She lives in Georgia sometimes, or in South Carolina, in a world that is always buzzing with creative energy, guitars, tattoos, and Chopper, her pit bull.