Pied Piper
Your voice echoes through my body
rumbling into veins and curves.
Turns me into wood; stiff and tied to
your tongue – your lungs – your vibrating throat –
every hum is a drum beating me into your shadow,
copying every movement, imitating each inch of your skin.
When you speak,
I hear you sing.
You could walk into the raging sea, bob under it
and next you would be me- flailing to stay close.
I know you from a single note – a grunt – a blunt retort –
each sentiment (be love or insult) moves me closer to you.
I will follow you until my flesh crumples and folds,
and falls from my crumbling bones.
Elizabeth Kemball is a writer and illustrator whose work has featured in journals including Black Bough and Iceberg Tales. She is an Editor and Designer for Re-Side magazine and is currently being mentored by Mari Ellis Dunning. Twitter @lizziekemball Instagram @e.kemball