Fingerprints

by: Hannah Montgomery

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When I was younger the guitar strings pricked my fingers 

they were branded with deep, red indents 

my brother’s patience was thin 

and our guitar lessons shrunk as I grew  

somehow the indents from the guitar strings were present in dance class 

I felt their sting as I begged my parents to take me out 

my body didn’t seem to bend the right way 

I couldn’t lift my leg to my head 

the other girls moved swifter and fluider, 

and our teacher’s eyes were too direct 

basketball practices were fine 

but I couldn’t stand the games 

the stands were too congested 

cheering and yelling were indistinguishable 

it made my head feel hollow 

as the indents on my fingers throbbed 

every year on my birthday 

the indents scorched my fingertips 

but my family’s joy is contagious 

and soon I could only feel a dull sting 

then I went on stage for the first time 

I felt the familiar impression of the indents on my fingers 

but they vanished after my first few lines 

I was taken somewhere I haven’t been 

and they couldn’t find me 

I forgot the indents when I held his hand for the first time 

and again when I opened the first page of a new book 

I didn’t feel them when I left church feeling lighter 

or when I woke up in the morning, 

warm and planted under the covers 

at times I will brush over the indents 

feel their mark 

but I don’t listen to them as much anymore.