tagNon-Erotic PoetryI Heard Katy Sing

I Heard Katy Sing


her voice is smokey
consuming you in velvet blanket,
a sensual warmth
too bluesy for her seventeen years,
spent on a hoedown island
without a nanny to teach
what can't be taught

tilting her back
belting out like a Bose,
taking you to gin joints
and deeds your grandparents did,
singing a skyscraper "Fever"
from a sand dune soul,

the girl just needs a band
the flidder has bloody hands

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