What They Don't Know

It's going to be on the other side
circles will make the sounds,
a vinyl trap of words
and this song in my head
will circle 'round.

My own words, honey-sweet,
with promises of heaven
or visions of desirable hell
have been honed with his skill
to come out of scratching diamond needles
all around the world.

Even just the title makes me squeeze
tight my thighs, hold in my sex,
in a gory anticipation
or a frightening trepidation
of which words will be there
in heartbreak and pain.

And though it's been in my collection
since 2001, I know few have seen it,
and I wonder who would believe it
after he's taken it, after he's perfected it
and after a million silver discs
spin under lazer light -

such tender torment to be the secret
and to speak in cryptic verse
while the world hears his cries
and would soothe his ache -
but not mine.