Ngu?i Cha Trong Mo

• Imogen Alford, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2022

i’ll clip my nails just so i can press my palm to my cheek

i don’t want crescent moons decorating my face anymore

but it’s the warmth of being held by guitar string calloused fingers

that makes me reach out to just barely grasp your copper green handle

that makes me come back and forgive you every time

that persuades me to let the quiet squeaks of your fingers on the fretboard bleed back into the cracks of my brain

before the ringing in my ears is accompanied by pretty red stains on my pillow

and i remember that you weren’t any of these things