Gibson’s war

After the war,

After bodies were cleared,

Mass graves dug up,

Photographed and catalogued.

After the rubble was pushed aside,

and reconstruction begun,

You found an abandoned instrument with broken strings.

Because this was all you could handle

and it did not stink of death,

You thought of all the songs it had sung

Cradled it in your arms

and lamented the loss.

and the more you thought

The more you thought of the guitar

you bought

That sat in the corner of your room

That you always meant to learn to play,

But never did.

and you thought that maybe

This was that type of guitar

and maybe it never got to sing

So you cradled it in your arms

and lamented the loss.

5-12-22