There’s a global mandate for isolation
It’s insisted I dust off my guitar
Sequestered as it was, against a suitcase and a wooden wall in the shed out back
We’re together now, instrument and me
Harmonizing
What side are you on, friend? (this is what i ask the guitar while he tunes his strings)
“The one with a waltz”
Triple-time seems appropriate
A waltz, of course
Yes
Patient enough to be the embers, restless enough to ignite
“Will you be dancing along as I play?”
He is only asking to hear me answer
I’ll be dressed for it
Guitar has a glorious voice, but no way to speak on his own
He can choose a side as long as he has an ally
The waltz, then, drags like a trailer’s tow in three-four time
I’m in green, cinched at the waist, ready
During quarantine, I ask him, which dance do we do?
He tells me, and I love it when he uses his mandolin voice, let’s do the one you like best
It makes me nervous to comment on a poem. Poems are so personal and I’d so not like to have an impression that was different from what the author intended. But, I loved Mandoline. I have spent a good part of each day practicing both my guitar and piano. I ‘ve loved it. I’m even taking piano lessons from Jane every week. And, I do exactly what your poem says. I play the same songs over and over because they are the ones I like the best.
“A mandolin voice” on a guitar – how poetic!