CALL ME BELOVED

sitting in a cold living room I toy with words,
feeling the unbridled pleasure as ‘warmth’
rolls off of my lips, fills the room and mingles
with the sunlight through the foggy window.

it’s a way of working magic into a dreary world,
to fill it with sound and passionate fury.
someone has given me a voice with which to sing,
and whispers the right words in my ear.

I sit in a cold living room, watch the sun
work its way through the cat’s fur on the bed,
and I begin to fill my world with warmth & sound,
I craft letters together slowly – I sing aloud.