mikafonia

chemistry tells us matter cannot be destroyed but changes from one form to another.            i heard you today            on old voicemails;        the voice that kisses the boundaries of being, screaming the conservation of the soul, tells me you are here even when you are not / /    it is only a sound. i have remembered a plethora of them; searching for the moments i can remember your nervous humming, your raucous prayers. but i only know the staccato breaths of a starting engine i have spoken sotto voce into the mouths of unripe girls i hea