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Click hereIn the soft silence of the summer night
when only the insistent chirping of cicadas
refuses to cease,
I hear you whispering to me
in the rubbing of legs,
the friction of longing loins
pulsing out a message
Even pre-dawn's cool
does not calm their ardor
or mine
The constant whirring
sets me spinning in eddies
of cold sweat and seething want,
races my heartbeat
shivers my spine
I pull the covers
Bury my head beneath the pillows
Pray for quiet and peace,
the first freeze of winter
to chill my emotion
and still the voices
"to chill my emotion
and still the voices"
That's the only line I didn't understand, where the entire poem was focused on noises made. I read it twice, maybe I need a third read, sorry.
I loved the subtle words you use, like 'rubbing legs'.
Still a great read, thanks. ;-)
What a maddening image- her incessant whine for attention. Jesus, Honey, it's 5:00 in the morning!
Fun poem, TT2U!
Biologist alert: you must mean crickets-- cicadas are afternoon/evening singers, and they don't use their legs!
I have bullfrogs in my backyard that do the same thing, but I wish for early monsoons ;)
...is the sanity found. The last line made me quietly smile. An open musing here, but I gotta ask: What's with the recent flurry of "cicadas" I hear in so many poems of late? Is it simply a cycle, like the colors everywhere?
At this rate, it's an image I'm going to have to scratrch off my list.
This is a good read, TT!