The Choir
A madrigal about a voice that should no longer be singing.
The house was quiet;
a choir was singing behind the wall.
I pressed my ear against it:
it came from somewhere deep within the dark.
It sang no words,
and yet the wall was breathing like a soul
until at last I heard it:
it was my own voice, and it was not mine.
My mouth, meanwhile, remained completely still.
I fell silent, to see if the echo
would answer once again in the shadows;
but when I closed my lips,
the whole choir fell silent all at once —
behind the plaster, still, my voice went on,
singing without my mouth.
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The Pocket Notebook
A note, an image, a sound, or a sensation can end up becoming a poem or a story. This text is part of that notebook of small things gathered before they disappear.
