Listen Poem by D A Phinney

Lying in bed I sing slow songs
into the microphone of your ear
Knowing you're too busy filing to
really listen
You remember words I have long
forgotten
I'll remember how you reached
through seamless curtains
To stroke my face absently, using
me as a worry-stone while thinking
I drag my nails along your naked
side, looking for wounds
Wanting to pour my blood into them
I speak at your impatient ear
while your eyes seek spaces near mine
While you're hearing my voice you cannot
feel my hand on your breast
This is why you read only
the words in my poems