Choir Poem by Athena King
Choir
When We all sing
in the gold-topped
stone-caged room
the sound of all of Our voices
becomes a thing physical
It holds up the walls and the ceiling
and slides through the air like so much silk
The whole sound
feels like it comes from my own mouth
with my voice cupped to hold the piano
within its undulations
And there is a joy
Wednesday, February 27, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: music
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5/3/2024 12:49:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
