There’s this theory involving church cathedrals.

Something to do with their windows –

glass stained of frozen sound. 
Cymatics, they call it.

Visualisation of voice.
You watch a documentary on it –

an acoustic engineer feeds a brass plate.

Sifts sand onto it. 
The sand aligns to vibration;

reveals a slice of frequency. 
The engineer moves the slider to a new octave –

sands part, are petaled, then depetaled. 
Snow meeting the shore. 
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He reimagines Genesis.

Molecules sung into their shapes;
configurations determining function.

He loves me, he loves me not.
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You recall the vocalist;

how he pressed you to the place

his voice arises.
Believe him when he said

you were beautiful.
You were geometry of seamless lace –

undone with the words you wanted to keep.
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Miss Mediterranean Snowflake,

reaching for rarity

as if it’s in relocation. 
We all want something to thrum through us;

to be repatterned by a higher harmonic.
You don’t know Who You Are,

and it’s no wonder. 
The time listening to his voice –

of course, it shaped you. 
He wrote through you as years

in the ear bones of a fish; otoliths.
When you wash up on a foreign shore,

remember the strewn granules –
no matter where they were,

they always found their place.
Danced with unpredictable precision,

across the plate. 
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