Her Legato

At the Folded Curtain

Of My Skin

 Under her, my cello, plucked by her dandelion seed

 Her auburn hair, curtains fall as night, our concert hall

 She bows my body, a cello bridge—arcs, my notes bleed

 Her gaze, rosins my bare flesh—my body, her doll.

 Her auburn hair, curtains fall as night, our concert hall

 She crescendos my breast—silence, cupped in summer’s air

 Her gaze, rosins my bare flesh—my body, her doll

 Hands fingers lips, jazz improv my flesh—she’s everywhere

 She crescendos my breast—silence, cupped in summer’s air

 Her breasts—raindrops, firm staccato, pierce my skin

 Hands fingers lips, jazz improv my flesh—

 Her breasts, a trumpet mute, my breath, my lost song fades—thin

 Her flute legatos my face—our wet blossomed lips

 Her gaze, a bow’s sustain, I tremble beneath its grace

 Her Bach waltz, we dance—perfect rhythm, the stage, our hips

 A long, deep, cello bow—our strings vibrato our sonnet’s face

 Her breasts, a trumpet mute, my breath, my lost song fades—thin

 Her flute legatos my face—our wet blossomed lips

 Once a perfect Bach harmony, now a solo violin

 A long, deep, cello bow—our strings vibrato our sonnet’s hips

Her gaze, rosins my bare flesh—my body, her doll

A long, deep, cello bow—our strings vibrato our sonnet’s hips

Under her, my cello, plucked by her dandelion seed

She bows my body, a cello bridge—arcs, my notes bleed