…Unexpectedly,
Her voice washes over me
again
like liquid love.

A smooth Southern melody
telling tales of
cotton and craft,
art and folk,
she and me.

Elegance and grace
with a twist of
sarcastic tenor,
eliminating any risk of boredom
or unintentionally falling asleep.

Talking with her is
like juggling knives;
mesmerizing, focus required
the hint of danger at the edge
of every phrase.

A silken cord
turned to
barbed wire
should I displease her enough.

This woman, capable
of crushing me with a glance,
could certainly vaporize me with her words.
…..she has, in fact, a time or two.

It took some time
to reassemble the pieces.

So why, I ask you
would I ever again,
pay heed
to that which
scorched me,
singed me and
scarred me
before?

Am I playing with fire?
Juggling knives again?
Sticking my glorious mane of hair
into the lion’s mouth for the last time,
with equal prospects of delight or decapitation?

But Oh,
Oh,
Oh!
Her voice enfolds me and
sweet, sweet honey drips from her tongue
to mine.

So I sit,
quietly contemplating
the  urge to swallow
building in my throat.

~

Author: Mk Michaels

Editor: Alli Sarazen

Photo: adifansnet/Flickr