Her Fingers Shape My Voice

Her Fingers Shape My Voice by Eric Ashford

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Her Fingers Shape My Voice

Dogs bring us wounds to lick.
You eat from my fingers
where You smell blood.
Because I am darkly shaped
like a guitar,
You keep Your hands
around my neck
and only when they move
do I speak.

In the Opening
everyone drinks from the same mouth.
There are no limbs
so we walk through each other.
There is a body here
but it is inward like a closed bloom.
The seashell is open
and the sea is inside it unseen.
If I place one finger in You,
we both moan.

Love gazes back into it self
to become the vision of the Goddess.
When I push into You
You open my hips
where vision flowers.
My hinges are all broken
since You made me Your secret.