Bow Hand
Speak to me in the language of cellos. Brush the kiss fluttering on my collar
Bones made of sharp starlight softened with dead time. Remember the waltz?
The shattering sky a spray of poetry whistled out the mouth of God. Holler
Mountain coffee in the cup, cinnamon dusted strawberry on my lips, Gestalt
Binaries and stimulation from early awakening upon REM sleep, I push crust
From my eyes and stretch heaven ward, then swan dive down, down, the torrid
Coast of love last found curled under my bed with a rasher of candied maple lust.
The metronome swings, tick, tock, tick, tock, measuring out, dolling out fevered
Visions stolen from sleeping doll hearts; while my head, perennially in the clouds
Languishes on my chest, a sudden dropsy of narcolepsy and I somnambulate, tip
Toes curled under as though channeling Degas graphite sketches on paper shrouds
Twisted crinolines, long legs point, feet flex, a sudden flutter, the ballerina’s hip
Scant weight against the palm of my desire. I shut the music box, silence concordant
With chandelier spattered light and the remembrance of you, my heart now dormant.
*Listening to Bach Cello Suite #5 in C Minor performed by Edgar Meyer
Auntiebubba 