Chamber Music

The acoustics are perfect here:
notes push through puckered lips. 

A whistled melody gushes, 
rushes right out of me. 
 
My burnt legs, once flat white, 
sing red with wild blaze. 

But the toilet bowl, an upturned bell, 
cools quick the sharp heat. 

I lean back into my gargling throne;
flush beats, bass-line splashes. 

My whistle brawls with the plumbing, 
howls and growls and yawps;

it aches past sounds, swelling and expanding
with inexhaustible yearning,
before a discerning

audience:
soap sweating yellow, 
faucet weeping rust.

© Catriona Wright