Mark Saunders

Voice Break

My words have their own key now, leaving home
mid-conversation, the larynx laid on thick
by muscle, flesh and blood.
The long vowels tell most,
transitioning from boy treble to the back row,
masses giving way to fry scream tutorials,
the Hormoaning re-release, death growl vlogs.

I am a mouth in rebellion, coming out
with a Babel of kazooed throat catches, a cut-quilled
virginal stuck in my head. Does this sound like
my father, straining for the upper register,
or more bass?
Winter lays silent whitenoise, kills
descants, settles. I sing, but no longer with my face.

Mark Saunders lives on the Isle of Wight in the UK. His poetry can be found in Abridged, The Alchemy Spoon, The Cannon's Mouth, Confluence, Meniscus, The Museum of Americana, Red Ogre, Soft Star, Spelt and Strix. He has appeared at Ventnor Fringe Festival and other venues.