Your voice sounds like the national anthem
sung in an empty stadium
like water filling an empty jug
like a baby’s first breath
like a take-out dinner, like someone tying their shoes
before the big race, like a clean tee-shirt,
a pot of boiling water
a roaring crowd
a bus pulling away from the stop.
Like the bells on a jester’s hat,
like a trumpet solo
like a father’s dancing
like the second pancake from the batch,
rain on a sunny day, a hyacinth macaw
stuck on a perch
like a mariachi band on a cruise ship
like a lottery ticket,
a heated game of ping-pong, like a thousand
wedding days, like someone
being bounced on a trampoline,
the slap of a baseball as it reaches the first baseman's glove,
an echo in a cave of lost travellers,
the sound of a cash register popping open,
like pizza being sliced to share among friends
like opening a package in front of the mailman
like finding your car keys in your pocket
just in time to make your appointment, like an older brother
teaching his sister to read, like a secondhand tennis racket,
like 7 bungee cords snapping in unison
like 83 toddlers taking their first steps
like the television left on to ESPN
and someone on their way down from the diving board.
