Voice

Look for it where you last saw it, among

hummingbirds and oranges, fingers sticky

with juice and promise and optimism that

never got it anywhere.

Follow it back through the door you left

open for five days five years ago, where

it might have slipped through chasing an

itch you didn't bother to scratch.

Wade through the seven year flood of sun

and seasons and milk glass and latin and

never again, never again, never again,

the song it knows best.

Find the one which still feels like home

and cut it open, tear it up, rip out all

the parts you like best. Keep these, and

throw away the rest.

Take what you've salvaged and tape it up

with what you've learned over the years.

It won't sound like you remember, but

that's how you find your voice.