the sound

I push the sound deep into my ears

Like a little kid pushing his fingers into those strangely shaped holes, to keep out the noise

A bang, or a shout, or a clash

And I push it inside to force out all the things welling up in me that I can’t stop from flooding my senses

I try to control the things I can’t contain

String them up in a perfectly neat box

But it won’t hold

So I turn the volume higher

And graciously the sound starts to hollow me out

And, simultaneously, fill me up

I feel the notes through the base of my spine, up to the lines of my clenched jaw

And listen to the same series of notes over and over until they become a part of my bones

Weaving themselves through my muscles, like shoe laces,

Pulling me in closer

Until I’m cinched in tightly around myself,

The sound like marionette strings

My repetitive movements like my body’s prayer

Until all I can do is let go.

And the wave inside me loosens the strength of its tide.

And the surge dulls.

And I’m left just with the sound.

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