voice gone
(the flowing voice you loved)
stripped to grunts, small
sighs, more silence
than sound
voice changed
(the lilting voice I loved)
sculpted to death, cut
glass, shut faster
than books
the possessed voice has possessed itself
(I don’t know you)
inhabits itself in its own
words, grows virtuous
and disconnected
rains on itself and drives
itself through the rain
umbrellas itself to shut
out the rain, cars itself, houses itself, finds
nothing