The Manifestation
The verb make abandons the heart
on my tongue, of sorts, unspoken and bizarre.
Tchaikovsky said: In matters of love,
words are not necessary.
He spoke these words and with them
conjured this idea that I now lay
against your rib cage. It carries the exact
weight of an infant at second breath.
Something must have existed before this trick
of throated reverberation, tongue
and hammer, cochlea, tunnels of sound
construction, solid enough to bear
the mass of each ton of tone
that’s pressed this pound of air between us.
*Stevie Ronnie is a freelance writer, artist and tutor with a background in digital technologies. Find out more at http://stevieronnie.com