she sang all phone books through both clefs just all Australian phone books five metres of them in maybe a Filipino accent but my tin ear can't quite tell

I thought: The Song of the Savant

would be a good title so I pressed play and heard the gaps between the notes big enough for bacteria and stars which fell through screaming then

her fingers keyed all those numbers and 20 million people answered, huh?

their ululations sputtering through fibre copper air and the whole world held

its breath a second and–then—sighed...

and the actor took his position down below you be the bird and I'll be the table

and can I get an antihistamine?

I think there might be someone apart from you who tries

that theory down the trap door and that sheet of glass has nothing better to do than let me drop through to this coal hole and curl up with a book and I'm now officially bored and uncomfortable the victim of a prominent neurosurgeon

who dropped a bunch of old photos and randomly

picked me up

I was eight weeks pregnant and suddenly burdened with accountability for what comes next