from The Museum of Disappearing Sounds

by Zoë Skoulding

exhibit 1

in breath a crackle of static
         a detuned radio in one lung
drones erase one other
         electricity sings in D
tyres slur across the street

a shoreline just out of sight
             at the base of the skull


exhibit 2

you hold the rise
and decays in its arc
             before dispersal
in wind on the microphone

cough in wave forms
count the layers

but when the light goes quiet
you sleep under air
through the tunnel of your throat


exhibit 3

today I’m dripping into forests
                 far into sleep
where you can’t find me
cannot catalogue the rustle of larch
             pixel by pixel
the stones under my feet


exhibit 4

in thin vibrations of the phone
a voice shimmers on the end of a line

while outside
                 ring dove calls
slip over branches into memory

breath hops and starts
             is this is this is this is this is this
I vanish in lossy compression

birds listen
                                  come in and drop out

the rhythms that cradle us
turn to an I-you stammer of ringtones
on the nervous system’s high whine


exhibit 5

in a frame of silence
                                                   the spectrum
                    shivers into transmission

in a forest of black and white
                              off-channel                                   branches
interlace over water          dark
                      and interrupted light

the moon is close                   closer
or retreating
behind the traffic far off

                                  coming and going
accelarates to slow-mo as rhythm
turns to pitch and sinks to drone