Bamboo has an eerie sound
late at night when the wind
knocks stalks together

I still remember the way I latched on
to the rustle and echo, grasping
something outside those moments when
his body pressed mine –
even the pillow he shoved over my face could not stifle
the steady drumbeat of hollow shoots
colliding together outside his window

Decades later I remember the way I woke
the morning after, grabbed
my Swiss Army knife,
carved a flute

- Sarah Hayes