Sound of Things

Your words, palpable,
press on me
like a wet wash cloth
sinking into the shape of my face.

Conversation, a land mine,
just like they say
blows up, words
become ten times their normal size.

I am lost
wandering in my own thoughts.
I listen to the sound of you,
like warm milk,
dripping down my throat,
until I see daylight.

...June 2003