The folder is frayed at the edges

The folder is frayed at the edges,

the black cardboard split to show the gray.

Inside, the sheet music for 'Danny Boy'

has a circle around my name in red,

with 'Please try harder' written in the margin.

I can still feel the cold air of the gym,

the way my sneakers made that sharp, dying squeak

against the wax when I stepped forward.

I hit the high note like a door hinge

that needs oil, a thin and cracking sound

that made the girls in the front row flinch.

Looking back at that kid, I want to tell him

it's okay to be a little bit broken

before the voice finally drops.