Poetry

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Is my microphone to the world
It sounds, then amplifies
What can’t be heard.
There are no words,
Just weeping, sighing,
Screaming, chirping,
And whistling
As every note dances
In jagged lines
In every finger tap.
My lips…
That embrace
The mouthpiece
Are mum.
But the flute
Devours
The crammed things
In my heart,
Once unbidden things
Now floating like wisps
Glistening in the air,
Surrounding me,
Proclaiming what they are
In wordless music.

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