CHLOÉ WRIGHT

Sonic Boom

 

Relative to the sound I'm making

as I round the corner in your front yard.

There is a point held together by three truths.

Some have been broken.

But one remains untouched.

​

Relative to the speed at which 

my father falls from the sky 

and meets the ground.

​

To the zone in which he leaves his body,

and I leave mine.

​

Relative to the speed at which you find him.

At a rate unmatched by anything prior.

​

At which you break.

​

There grows a sonic boom.

​

Your departure, faster than the speed of sound.

​

​

2021