I am threading like a line of needles, slipping one note into the other, holding the melisma in the corner of my mouth. I am always leaning to a requiem a little early, before the one to sing for has actually died, speech rhythm matched like a patch over a song, sung over the body, sung over and over, the words move, the melody repeats. stitching. stitching. I line myself into the running stitch, steady as I clef and see the psalm lines back of the tapestry, words as shifting places marked by gaps where I should shift to split stitch, matching word to weave, and the whole thing is a coda over and over, I am looking for a place of zero friction, sound emerging smooth from my mouth, like a bolt of cloth
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Victoria Punch is a voice coach and researcher interested in silence and translation. She has work published in Poetry, Poet Lore, Mslexia, Magma, Under the Radar, and Gods and Monsters (Pan Macmillan 2023). She is a regular contributor for Journal of Italian Translation. Found on Instagram @victoriapunch_
© 2025, Victoria Punch
Halfway Down the Stairs 