NaPoWriMo Day 19, Poem 21/30: I finished my book on the Metro tonight, so I had nothing to do but write a poem. Trying to go for some more concrete images than usual.
Aria
You sing, your eyes
like green means go traffic lights.
You sing, your feet
planted, high heels caught
in concrete.
You'll never leave your hands
in Hollywood
so this will do.
You sing, hand to stomach,
feeling for air and voice and life.
You sing, and your hair -
not chestnut not mahogany
just brown - falls in ribbons
down your naked shoulders.
You sing, and my skin
puckers with the weight of your melody
and tenses every inch of me.
You sing, and my hands
sting from so many ovations.
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