Fear has a voice I had not expected, even from the mute.

For terror it was worse.

When I arrived she was wild-eyed, wet from their mouths,

moon-colored, feet hapless.

I heard it once long before the Irish opera using child sopranos

as woodland animals

or the Andover arts frameworks for teaching children to sing

on pitch with appropriate dynamics

the song 'Mr. McGregor,' or one Terese Rabbit, soprano,

now performing in Georgia,

my white Flemish Giant slipped through the pickets

without my knowing and was found by dogs

Such human terrifying notes no known soprano hits,

mortal shrieks no composer uses,

piercing walls, urgency passing through masonry and time.