Listening Sound

“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.