This poem sprang out of our ‘voices’ Poetry ID workshop at the end of February. Thanks to Luisetta for sifting that topic from the ether that evening.
The first time I heard your voice
it touched me so closely
I almost hung up.
Who was this stranger who spoke to me?
My voice hid in the business of practical detail,
peering out from behind the leaves
newly aware of its nakedness.
Now we converse, sometimes
cloaked in familiarity,
sometimes skin on skin.