Appeal by Willa Carroll Muse, I’m all metal string, no strummer. All radio, no dial. Minus your juice, I go slack. Glitter these cells, volt brain to tongue. Amplify this body, vibrating habitat. Loose vector, hijacker of synapse, come blow holes in vowels, bum-rush the voice-box of larynx, mouth-off consonants explosive, sibilant, trilled—come show face, break strike, take back the mother-loaded, motherfucking night. Muse, I’m your zero, tank of no volume. Lend your glint, crank nervous circuits, recruit all seventy-two muscles of voice, neurons ring in chorus.