within earshot

[aquamarcia]

Title: Not Listening

I want to put my fingertip
on the curve made by your ear
and trace that curve, slowly, gently,
down to the lobe.

When I reach the lobe I will try
to pierce your ear with a word
or two.
One word a diamond,
another onyx,
or perhaps an amethyst.
An amethyst would look well hanging there.

But my words are stone
and I have no word for a needle.
That's what I need
to pierce your ear: a needle.

My words are stone and though
some of the words may be lovely,
faceted and glittering,
filled with color and light,
they are still blunt instruments
unsuitable
for piercing an ear.

Without the needle you will
not listen, and the amethyst I speak
will not hang there,
will not grace the lobe where
my fingertip wants to pause.

I am not so rich in words that I
can afford to let them fall
to the ground, not listened to.
I will thus withhold,
and try to find a needle.
Failing that, I will try to find
a woman whose ear is
already pierced, empty,
awaiting my amethyst, though
in this other woman's ear a ruby
might look better.