I Stepped on My Guitar by Katryn Conlin I stepped on my guitar. I felt the wood splinter under my heel It made a terrible sound Its final chord I broke my bow. Carbon fiber, even harder than Pernambuco I set it across the arms of a chair Someone sat down And my fiddle fell prey to my absent mind. I left it outside all winter Frozen and thawed Seams split and the soundpost Floated away About my bass: I was packing the car. In the dark, it got left on the ground Behind the wheels You can imagine what happened When I backed up And now, I have a sore throat. I haven’t spoken for days I cannot sing a single note Nor have I a word to say I will be silent And listen to the music in my head Page 15
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