Drum Circle

Pomegranate seeds flowering in my grin
I let my wine glass sing
As my finger traces octaves
Slowly around its rim

I’ve cupped my palm around this conversation
And am whistling gently into and through it
I want it to resonate
Echoing trough the canyons of your vertebrae

I stand in the hallway of the veils
They are silver and mercury and spinning
Like drunken landscapes
Even as their shroud lifts
It covers what was visible

When I can’t see,
I feel you humming in my tongue and fingers and
I remember the taste of honey, the way
Bee’s understand what it is to die to defend something

Thinking now, honey will never taste the same
Just as my senses deceive me to step
Outside your dimensions, changing tastes
Make me unsure of each unrealized sensation

This is new…

Hesitation shape shifting into compulsion
Every devil/angel shoulder tango ends in agreement
I’ve fallen into the drum
The vibration is my skin and the wind
Blowing my hair is its timbre

You are the echo chamber
My follicles are bathed in your reverberation
As we are bound, skin to rhythm
Pulse to fingertip
Temple to pursed lips

I want to crawl into you like Salvation
Blinded by swirling veils
Ready to abandon hope and adamant
I have not yet done enough to deserve you.