The way the guitar fits together
a quilt of notes
sewn together by gentle hands
The way the frets turn
from one to two to twelve
the synopsis of the octave
growing to new heights
that diminished chord
hits me like a descending bell
and crashes into the glass doll
in my chest.
The poem soaked in rusted water
drenched in diamonds
and dripping from dark room chemicals
as it comes into being
it slowly features
a figure coming into being.
