MD Kerr

Singing lessons

Series of lunes

Mahogany voice
smooth and hard
peels away old bark.

Soft saggy belly:
space to breathe, for years.

Shoulders a steel frame:
under, sponge
soaks up air, spits sound.

Head: chest: belly: throat:
theyíre all mine.
They are all for sound.

Where my voice can go
is so new
it sounds like a scream.

Glass hums in my teeth.
I am sound:
I fill rooms, freely.

Squawk, rasp, gurgle, shriek:
donít cower.
Go again, louder.


Text of the poem

Thanks to The Writers Greenhouse for the prompt to write a lune about a texture.

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