Her Voice

It was her voice that woke me, woke the
feeling shook it free from its hiding, its
little shadow seemingly forever in place
now edged free and precarious…it was
her voice; the center of the cacophony
the middle frequencies battling, echoes
across the copper bar the stem glasses
the beautiful small food plates pushed
and pulled from and to…her mouth; I
felt her voice caress me with knowing
with recklessness she unwrapped herself
and gave me slips of light, glimpses of
moments and stirred the darkness…she
was everything my vision my heart my
fingers delicate on her skin on wrist arm
back and forth the ideas bounced, be-
came solid inserted in-motion toward an
end too soon too quick…her voice among
many directed planned casually given to
ears waiting feeling the soft minute of her
always…her forever and the awakening
circled the ground until—finally ready—it
signals that my eyes should see the
beauty before me…know the voice
that unlocks my soul.

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