Soft Rhythm
Through your neck's arc
Pushes warm fingertips over my hair
From the back
My nape unguarded
Marks frisson of thrills
From my sacrum
Medulla in balance
My eyes chew each clump of words
And drop them in your lap.

Then the right silence
After long speech
Trips mirthful eyes to coy embrace.
You drawl a smile
A slothful impulse draws
Your moist eyelids downward.

I scan quickly
From your hairline
To the moment's throbbing center
The tilting thumb-drum
At your throat
Keeping time
Keeping time
As your face beckons me
To the rocks at your heart.


© by Uche Ogbuji
October, 2005
Irving, TX