Mezzo

The notes trickle down the hollow between her breasts,
Cascading as a river of mist across the boards,
Spilling over the footlights,
Curling into the tones ascending from the orchestra,
Swelling above the pit, over the brass rail,
Rolling in waves across shrouded, enraptured faces,
Slipping upwards to the arcs of the ceiling,
Licking the air,
Consuming breath,
Mingling
Rising
Imploding
Falling
Fading
Echoing
Stilling.