I sing you in my body, God said.
The crystal goblets in
my credenza vibrate with your nearness.
Echoes of the Big Bang bounce off
my parlor walls when you laugh.
You show your moon-side, and
all of the parish dogs,
sleeping on sofas, and the midnight coyotes,
snacking on offal,
stand up and howl.
Nothing in me can resist you.
I’m like a tuning fork,
at your approach.
* I’m still not settled on the big bang line. Something seems off about the rhythm or the progression of imagery. Any suggestions?