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

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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.