Body Whispering
Do you gurgle, grunt, and gripe,
grind the soft bones of thought dry?
You need some orchestration,
some instrumental tuning.
Play with those ad hoc glottalized vibes,
harmonize.
The body, that geomungos collection
of agrarian earth animalcules
which work for themselves alone,
tilling mud, repairing dykes
& ditches,
that biological chain gang
that works on robotically
within a symbiotic conglomerate
others have put a name to,
that commune of the blind
it needs to be honored for its industry.
It is your manikin self – wind it up with
new tunes.
It has to be warbled to,
bill & coo some
as if it were a real child.
it needs lullabies and ballads,
calm it with gentle glissandos.
Be not crotchety.
Even if your own voice
is an amphibian nightmare
that growls off key,
sing soto voce -
be a body whisperer.
You may still
grapple occasionally
with those galumphing
gargoyles of your flesh,
but love will be in you
like a soft pretzel,
you will be tasty and salty,
not sad and sickly.
Your tide will turn,
your shore will be giddy
with the sounding of your songs,
the swirling pipes of your soul.
Your comforted body will purr
upon the lap of sleep
like a well-nourished tabby cat
or squeak not
like well-oiled piano stool.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment