Knowing You
… How do I know you? I have my own way.I know you by height and width and shapeThat negative space outline your body fillsI know you by the way your hair goes to curls in the rain Misbehaving brown corkscrews shot with goldAnd by the lilt your tongue gives certain vowels when you’re arousedOr the rickety clack your tone takes when you’re annoyedI know you by the company you keepRagged men with ragged soulsI know you by the places you hauntJunkyards of lost causes that you find new uses forI can’t wax poetic about a blue-eyed devil or patrician nose or chiseled jawI can’t picture a faceBut I know you…
Replay
Gazing into the past, memories blur and ripple. I can’t give you a face,but your voice comes back to me in surround sound. You loved to play me likethat, tonguing the notes,hammering staccatoand alluring caress,scaling between codas. Even with eyes open,dim reflections disrupted, harmonic vibes replay. You’re still hitting allthose right notes, baby–playing from the inside out. I can’t escape your touch,that lazy baritone ,sliding under my skin like a needle hung upon grooves cut deep inan old vinyl record. ~Nara Malone This post was written in response to the Sunday Scribblings prompt: Reflect. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself. I did some…