“Listening Sound”
My breath is a simple refrain
I sing to myself,
the breeze on my face
and sun on my whole, bare body
a song the world sings back.
My body has so much to say to your body.
Words jumble over my skin
when I imagine your touch,
my arching back and neck tilting into
and away from where your lips might be.
But it loves listening best.
My hips have a prayer
for you to murmur on your knees.
They are a narrow stone column,
my torso a rocky cliff,
the bones of my being a pretty set of boulders—
sharp here and smooth there,
and mostly rounded out by the animal softness stalking them,
like women’s bodies are,
no matter how small.
It’s a rocky shore
and I know you know better than to dock there.
Anyway, great ships are not built to stay in port.
Honey, I know you ain’t gonna stay.
You may navigate through the rocks to the sound
that rocks gently, more or less, longing to listen
to what your body has to say.
