That sotto voce whistle through your teeth
insinuates you want me,
so I turn my head a little
to the right.
You then pronounce my sentences like votive
lights. Next thing I hear
is what I think amid homecoming
to your hideaway.
Feelings shape themselves into
the shadow bodies that we call our lives.
We find lyrics that instruct us
how to classify desire
that we infer from
of things to buy and screens to watch
before the faculty of hearing fails us.