Voice

And I lay still and snow dust
is burning my skin.
Snow dust is burning to me,
burning never burning out
Orange
Orange
a grey moon.

And I am becoming strings
strings of violas
guitars
violoncellos;

Strings of all
string instruments
when they are searing me
starting to sear me
like orange
like orange
and before I become
voice
before voice I become
vocal strings,
snow dust is burning my skin,
snow dust
orange
burning me,
burning out.