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.