when they tell you the body is the instrument

The body:
The singer’s instrument

The body:
Recent Covid prison, achy, wracked with coughs

The body:
What I thought I was escaping by spending so many teenage hours making music, slipping into a plane of sound that was higher or more worthy (I thought) than my own solidity, despite the burgundy polyester choir dresses that showed everything we wanted to hide, despite the obvious inescapable physicality of creating sound from diaphragm and lungs and glottis

The body:
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