Rift between audacity and love,
too great a silhouetted pearl
that I am thinking of; no more
meat upon bone. Just the fat.

Reduced by heat and monogamy.

And you reduce my throbbing headache
with your tongue as you transcribe your world
into short sound bytes.

And my ears beg for you.

They say, “blessed are the poor,”
but I say, “blessed am I to have you
for ten minutes to myself.”
And, “blessed is the cochlea and the drum.”
As I hear your hum.

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