Cantar

I want to bottle your voice
and hold it close.
I’d keep an ounce in a locket;
A morsel around my neck,
to save the tension
of waiting
senses primed
for a worthy chorus,
drawing a clutch of notes
into birth.

My lullaby around my neck,
I could never fear the night
any more than I could fear
the dark brown of your eyes.
You would sing me to sleep
in fits and starts,
a note here,
a word there,
the formula of heaven.

2 thoughts on “Cantar

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