If you hold the guitar close
to the amplifier's shivering weight
its sound comes back, the lower pitches falling away
to leave the one
climbing angel, the shimmer of the note
in a high mirror.
In bars and basements I hunted
that animal, that electric, discarded star—
above the foundation-stones of the bass and drums
the chipped Stratocaster flickered and strained.
My chest shook. I held the note
until it sang again.