"Transfiguration"

          
         
This, the morning after imbibing
an overabundance of a Scot favorite
Single Malt Scotch aged eighteen years
in celebration of a very happy new year
         
Broadaxe hacks at my cranium
internally, externally
she awakes, speaks
"Good morning"
       
Her thunderous VOICE
able to warn cruise ships
of nearby perils
reverberates inside a fogged haze

'Shhh'

A petite hand slides across my chest
brushing buttons, pressing go
Soft breath and twirling tongue on my lobe
Nearly inaudible but loud, a whisper

"I want to exercise your tussle muscle"
She knows this invokes laughter
and again it does
silently

Her creativity and ability
Boundless
surreal vehemence
Transfiguration of one
throbbing head into two
         
         
*January 1, 2012*