When he gets there she is waiting
in the white room, the walls
as fragile as shells, floor
like sand, bed
a tumble of waves.
When he gets there she says,
Let’s make words like windows
rattling. Let’s make words like cicadas
screaming at dusk. Let’s make words
like sounds only our bodies remember.
When he gets there he feels
the lines swelling inside her.
He feels her leading him to them,
saying, Touch here, wet your lips,
place your mouth on this, loosen your tongue,
open slowly this patient cup of waiting.
Scott Owens‘ second collection of poetry, “The Fractured World,” is due out from Main Street Rag in August. His first collection, “The Persistence of Faith,” was published in 1993 by Sandstone Press. He will be Visiting Writer at Catawba Valley Community College this fall and coordinates the Poetry Alive reading series in Hickory, NC.