The Call

tree circles 3

By Keayva Mitchell

I can’t help the way your voice
can still liquefy me.
How you boom into the cellular tower
of my body with all the grace of a
China shop bull knowing no better.
The way your mouth can break
over my defenses like heart attack.
Like flood. Like undressed ache.
From my ears. To my chest.
(And then lower.)

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