A sound clip is tricky matter
Devoid of mass energy volume
But it’s dense with gravity
A magnetic storm on a far away planet.
It pulls me in a whorl in a weird whirl
To the depths she inhabits now.
Voice voice sound sound echo echo
Her lungs her heaving bosom her voice chords .
See, she has been dead for a hundred years
Yet I float in her sadness
Like a pickled embryo
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