It comes again the
liquid tingle burning my throat.
I haven’t been drinking coffee, but you’ve been
reading a poem and I forgot to blow on it first
like soup or cocoa to cool it off cause it’s coming
too fast too hot too
brand-spanking new

And I know you’re pouring it into my
soul and not my
stomach it’s spreading to my shoulders
and that’s not where foodstuffs typically go;

not coming through my ears, more a
heat wave hot flash shiver
like stretching out of bleary morning sleep
mixed with hearing a stretch of melody fingered fine
on the piano.

That usually comes in strong and
heavy through my arms so I
wonder if my nervous skin is
singing in my neck an
echo a mimic a mirror of
your words south-pole magnet pulling my
north right into the open I
have a voice too like
your voice and you shout but
I graphite-whisper my words also
make noise