Playing the ukulele

Playing the ukulele


for the first time leaves

you with fingers numb

as a child’s blue

ones after playing

in the blizzard, as

Mom’s after scraping

ice from the windshield,

as bones grown raw.

One thought on “Playing the ukulele

  1. I was surprised by all the sounds and sensations that emerged in this poem: plucked ukulele strings, blue fingers — frosted fingers, the sound of scraping, resistant ice, and rawness. The ukulele takes me to summer (whether true or not) so becomes more pronounced against the cold of winter. For me, this is a vivid, strong poem. I’ll return to this many times as I consider ways to write more succinctly with greater power.

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