Waiting to be Said.

Leaning lightly between
timeless and tender bookends
I am word in a page in a book
unspoken and undefined
waiting to be said by you.

Whisper me gently the first time,
then slightly louder repeat me,
until I am a stream of incense
flowing from your lips.
Unleash me from

the meshwork of these red
ravenous snakes, that make me flesh,
like music unleashes
the motion of the dancer’s step
with the marking pace of tempo

and speak me out of the darkness of
these leather binds
that confine a small universe
looking to orbit the amber shade
of a sun at its center.

It is there that my flesh becomes divine.

Close your eyes and speak me
surrounded by vowels
and we shall become one
greater than each other
until the sun rises.

D.Q. 12/05/05