How to Make Love to a Didgeridoo X
A cello moans through cedar fog,
low notes trembling between her teeth.
Amber bowstrings tighten, vibrating against ribs—
wood groans beneath the weight of sound.
Resin clings to fingertips,
drawn taut over hollow curves.
Each bow stroke sharpens the air,
Splitting migraines into cascading cacophony
The final note—
held breath, a whispering overtone,
unraveled into stillness.
Copyright © Josh Moore South Dakota | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment