Guitar Shops. Four Continents.
Why G-d is it that when a woman walks into a guitar shop,
humble or renowned, the man behind the counter sports
a smile that snakes around his face like the alleyways
leading up to red Alhambra as he hunts through his teeth
and sighs while he brings forward his cheapest instrument
pointing to a low chair by the door without a footstool or
a moment of peace while dust and noise stream in, blend
with the glory of a Bach Prelude travelling from Major to
relative minor to the Five of Five, and I shake my head
while I want to shake the unresponsive guitar, and I really
want to shake the young man with his black moustache
which blinds him to the fact that women can play too
and have better rhythm or ear than he does, and what about
G-d who could turn the driftwood guitar golden with a snap?
humble or renowned, the man behind the counter sports
a smile that snakes around his face like the alleyways
leading up to red Alhambra as he hunts through his teeth
and sighs while he brings forward his cheapest instrument
pointing to a low chair by the door without a footstool or
a moment of peace while dust and noise stream in, blend
with the glory of a Bach Prelude travelling from Major to
relative minor to the Five of Five, and I shake my head
while I want to shake the unresponsive guitar, and I really
want to shake the young man with his black moustache
which blinds him to the fact that women can play too
and have better rhythm or ear than he does, and what about
G-d who could turn the driftwood guitar golden with a snap?
May 2024
Swedish-born Gunilla Theander Kester, Ph.D. is the author and editor of six books in three genres including her full-length poetry book If I Were More Like Myself. In the last two years she has written and published over 40 poems in various literary magazines including The American Journal of Poetry, Citron Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Pangyrus, and The Potomac Review. Her new book-length poetry collection--Hold Me Still—is looking for a publisher. She was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry.
Art: Inanna, Enheduanna, Amanita muscaria and Myself by Kat Cervantes