Songlines

 

reminds me of bends
in infinite seams,
Bolivia, all that salt
on the lake,
brushing ashes
from coal breasts,
a wholy seen
beautiful dawn,
my delicate fingers,
burning tongue,
throat box,
hair endings
curled on shoulders,
hungering above
elephant tooth keys
born for thesr times,
these pounds,
that howl,
a crescendo,
goosebumps.
Music dwells
in melodies sting,
subdominants,
under sounds,
the tonic
pause, then retreat,
how it evokes
a step toward,
every gentleness
of you,
as if I could ever
read your mind
between chords,
whole sheets swollen
with signs of human kindness,
a language, known only within,
drifting from sonos.