Listening to Her Features

She called me late the other night
I cannot hear the ringing of the phone
Or the disorder of the words
But the picture as she spoke to me
Brings the curve of her hair
Falling over the rise of her check
A perfect line between us
How did she get so skilled
To capture with that Vermeer light
The frame of our reflection
Wraps us in saturated sensuous embraces
And I the joyous artist
First to see the colors
Jump from the canvas

I am trying to relax
The new love confusion bouncing in my heart
With the room a swell of her so close but out of sight.
And though I am listening as if I were
Hanging on a lifeline
I can’t remember what words she spoke
But tattooed inside are the images so sewn

When tomorrow night comes she
Will speak her last words
A message left like a quail breathing its last.
Echoing away in this little room
And I its orphan looking up
Confused with that endless sadness
When the future blinks and disappears

Still, it is only tonight
To Her
I am a life of words
While my body is remembering her lips and the
Tingle of my fingers as her ribs
Pass under my hand and she deciding
If we will make love later
Though we both know decisions
Are illusions where we travel
For in truth this one kiss will have
To last forever.