"voice lessons"
It is a wonder and a fearsome thing
the way your mouth blossoms red
and wide. There are fireflies and thistles
in your sigh. Your breath is all honey
and ale, courage with a piquant dash
of cowardice. You have kissed both
enchanted stone and ass, reveled
in the sacred and revered the debauched,
all with those lips as pale as ash.
Look at how the audience still hungers,
upturned faces like buttercups, rapt
and bright in the sunlight of your smile.
The adders and hawks are forgiven.
You were simply clearing your throat.
I am no different than any of them,
disarmed and drunk on hope.
When the freight train mounts your throat
I am dead certain I hear a purr.
© 2008 Dale McLain
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