Poem For A Non-Religious Gospel Speaking Choir Of One Poem by Rachael Swiss

the last thing i want to hear
late at night,
before i close my eyes,
is your voice.

in the mornings sometimes
(on the days when i am not a slave
to my alarm clock)
the phone will ring,
and on the other end
is your voice.

there are times when i could almost
bubble over with frothy joy,
an overly caffeinated human cappucino
whirring with delight -

so i call you up,
dizzy from the spin of it,
to spill some of my effervescence
into the hollows of your ears.

(then i wait and hope for an echo)

but when the pain comes
i try to spare those ears,
those lucky ears that receive so well,
from having to listen to me cry.

because i hope that when you hear my voice
you feel the same way that i do
whenever i get lucky enough to hear
your voice:

like everything is slowly rising -
the corners of my mouth
my cheekbones
the air within my lungs
especially my stubborn feet,
which seem to defy gravity
as they hover above the floor.