these metronomes

these metronomes

these metronomes

of hair and hips

like beatings hearts

and the mindlessness of breathing

you there

walking or jogging

and twisting my heart

taking my breath away

these metronomes

calling out to my bones

are there marching orders

for the springtime. . .

like clouds of pollen swarming

and trees swayed by warming wind. . .

like sleeveless shirts

and pants o so short. . .

like a sound track to the cycles

and dances of crisscrossing our planet. . .

i am left tapping out the rhythm

of my hands reaching for the swaying

curves of you waving waving to me

shoulder into arm ringed in tattoo. . .

where your thumb and finger meet. . .

the tightening of skin over ankle bone. . .

tick-tock hair

tick-tock hips

tick-tock steps

these metronomes

driving me to songs of longing

can you hear my fingertips calling you

playing air piano and drum calling

silent whisperings

these metronomes