Paul,
Paul
you plucked those two strings
and **** near took
me to my knees.
Knocked the breath
right out of me.
r ~ 5/9/14
The Black Guitar
Clearing out ten years from a wardrobe
I opened its lid and saw Joe
written twice in its dust, in a child's hand,
then a squiggled seagull or two.
Joe, Joe
a man's tears are worth nothing,
but a child's name in the dust, or in the sand
of a darkening beach, that's a life's work.
I touched two strings, to hear how much
two lives can slip out of tune
then I left it,
brought down the night on it, for fear, Joe
of hearing your unbroken voice, or the sea
if I played it.
The Black Guitar, Paul Henry
http://www.serenbooks.com/news/paul-henrys-the-black-guitar-is-the-guardian-blogs-poem-of-the-week