Photo by Chris Hardy on Unsplash

Making music

A freeform poem about how longing can engender resonance

“It’s no good if it’s full,”
he said, blowing across
the bottle’s mouth.

Sibilant hiss to sonorous
hum, pennywhistle
to pipe organ wail.

“The emptier,
the deeper the tone.”

Like these words resounding
in my chest, a guitar
strummed.

Like these poems, round
and aching as a cello’s
moan.