They Whisper

They speak when ears are shut,
and listen when ears are open.
They whistle in the wind,
and I hear them.
Behind my back at the desk,
do you hear me?
Do you understand?
Curled in the graveyard of my bloodline,
do you hear me?
Will you be for me?
She of the perfumes,
She of the poisons,
do you hear me?
Am I yours?
In the warm arms of air,
Your voices ringing,
I see you in the lights at the wicks of the candles.
You who are the ink in my pen,
and you who are the plume at its end,
You who speak in the secret signs of silence,
the fleeting thoughts that tilt the head,
watching as they skid askance.
Listen to the lilting songs of the heart,
and speak in tongues.
You were beside me and are when I need you.
You are at her side and mine.
Listen to the little songs of the heart,
and speak in tongues,
hear the lightning songs of the tongue,
and speak with heart,
true of voice.

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