The new guitar
Jessica L. Johnson CC'11
The neck knows my palm. To tune is to find the right vibrations between my thumb, thumb and forefinger, ear. The guitar string is a tightrope my fingers run across. I hang on its body. We’re hollow in the same places at times, though my insides aren’t so well carved out. I, too, am suspiciously held together by small metal screws; want only to be held at my side, wound and strummed, to sound.