The Woman I Love


The basin between hipbones,
Her fertile crescent. The emphasis
On language, the grammar lesson
She throws at you, my wife, the English teacher.
How one woman, taught me
How to pronounce Gaia, as Gaya,
While walking aimlessly inside a park one day.
How she reads herself to sleep,
The lullaby serenading her cones and rods,
The afterimage that slowly stitches
Her eye lids to close. How she tells me
All the wrongs in English, and gets
Me use them in dirty pillow talk,
Whore, slut, bitch. How she
Is none of them, and yet becomes
In that dusty twilight of language,
Everything profane, and converts
Her body to a house of raunchy sin.
How phonetically incorrect love is,
Those noises that float as peculiar sounds.
While the big O, is big and loud. Its like
A humpback whale coming out
Of a key hole, singing aloud her whale song,
Next to your now-almost-deaf ear…….

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