Spring 2022
living room interlude Lila Goldstein
trying to listen to birdsong, morning light melting into floorboards; interlude of chaos trilling on the same notes until my bones settle into resonance, indistinct from body, from bird, from house, from tree. my body theatres in this rest, it arenas, it reaches the nosebleed seats; star, spectator, chorus member waiting to break out. mind empty and loud; refreshing, as in dragging down and circling connections. as in taking a short walk and coming home to microwave and tea kettle. new times appear on the clock. humming, humming. background chatter and shock of a voice on the phone that evokes my own nasal and crackly texture, not unlike a slow and deep chirp. expecting the couch to absorb my embodiments of sighing, of humming, of holding and gathering sounds.
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