play

accordion lines collapse into her lungs, expanding her body in expression, pouring tides of tones through her pallets, while bringing semi-colons to rest. some days, she plays pitches that force the ground to hover under shades of safety. but it's only when she listens that her articulation resonates in lullabies. afraid of the stark contrast, she removes the straps to the box. holding her fragile fingers, she sits in silence. it's a blackout in loneliness; until she remembers she is the instrument. her signature is not within the sounds. she must simply let the songs play, play, play on and through