The Piano
A slow crescendo
licks across my skin
swimming from shoulder to shoulder
A hand on my neck-
like being brushed with a comb of spider webbing
I can hear you
even when we’re not close enough to touch
though our body hair becomes entangled
What wonders come from your mouth
when you’re not using your tongue to speak
You can play me
Ivory keys
ivory flesh
it makes no never mind
Your lips make my pores sing
Sweat drops down on the bedding
eight note
quarter note
writing a tune that hooks us together
What music could issue forth from these sheets!
February 23, 1994
Tressa Lee Breen
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