october twenty-eighth time

idiophone

that night, when the words
were afraid and healing,
i held you like a bell.

i braced your waist
with the palm of my hand,
hesitatingly brushed your lips;
noted the elegant rust
of your shoulder.

i was so anxious that you would hear
your own brilliance rattle
accidentally through your bones.
realize the cumbersome weight
of the yoke. that you would shake
free and forward and out like a thousand
impossible thunder songs.

i promise, i will learn
the nuances of your anatomy.
the bell is a delicate body
and i may only ring
you once, but you will resonate

and chime, and sing.

please, let me catch your tongue
awhile. you signify so many
exquisite and affected moments.