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version 2.2
...self indulgence...
...livejournal...
...poetry & artwork...
...friends...
...randomalia...
...rpg excursions...
...leave me alone...
...back where you started...
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...A Chord of Your Voice...
Sometimes I feel you watching me as I struggle
to find the notes, to play a chord
of your voice.
It always turns into Claire de Lune,
Moonlight Sonata or Miunet in G.
You laugh at the sudden turnabout of notes,
leaving the pot to boil over on the stove
and tease me as I try frantically
to catch that sound as well.
~
On the night we met, I was writing
poetry on a napkin in a Detroit coffeehouse.
There was a jazz song playing
and we were both trying to ignore
the room's hot purr of sex.
The place was crowded, you asked
to join me and I said no.
By the time the bands changed
we were in the bathroom, screwing
to the rhythm of a ska song, reinventing
the chorus as we came.
~
The spoon is angry stirring my coffee,
loud crashing circles against the rim.
The room is filled with drops of water
hitting a plate in the sink.
~
I finally pinned down your voice
by breaking a dinner plate;
each narrow shard a note,
an accusation staring up at me
from the kitchen floor.
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