Enrapture

Poetry has curly hair.
It cascades in loose ringlets
from the crown of her head
past her shoulders
and down her back.
In the light it shines all colors,
chestnut, brown, and gold.
Each movement of her head
is another line
in the ballad she sings.
I follow her words,
a sunflower to the sun.

When she stretches her neck,
I peer around the bend,
looking to see where her desires travel.
Her eyes are fleeting,
and leave no indication
of where they may land.
Even her ears
register different decibels;
her body moves to these sounds.
Toes, feet, ankles, knees, hips
Fingers, hands, elbows, shoulders, neck
Something pulses just underneath her skin,
I've heard it beat between the rhythmic timing of her heart,
when I searched her body for the answers.