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A Bodily Trade

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My ears have traded places with my eyes.
I see music and wind and words
When they leave someone’s lips.
I hear colors and light and the clouds
When I glance up and a bird flies past the sun.

The voices I see clash wildly and fight each other for space
While music continuously flutters about, dodging the voices
And weaving in between them.
The wind I see rushes quickly through the air
Gathering things up with its long, winding arms
And going right through the music and words,
Picking a bit of them up along the way
And carrying them off to God knows where.

My vision has become an orchestra
Playing a never-ending symphony.
The moonlight on a pond is the bassoon playing soft and sturdy
In the background.
A chase through a house by a small girl and her kitten
Is the high-pitched violin played furiously fast
And a cymbal clashes every time the little girl knocks into a lamp.

The red, pink, orange rays of a sunset
Are the cellos somewhere to my right.
With every sweeping stroke of their bows
A smudge of red weeps down from the sun,
As it cries softly goodnight to the world.

And a peaceful piano solo
Is the last thing I hear
Before the sun dips slowly out of the sky.





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