She whispers softly to me,
but I understand not her words,
though their meaning is quite clear.
Her breathy sibilance tickles my ear.

I laugh and scrunch my shoulder.
She nuzzles my neck with her nose.
I roll her on her back with a twist.
Knees clamp her legs, hands, her wrists.

Now a taste of her own medicine.
I speak in her ear with my foreign tongue.
Her fingers, when I let go her hands,
sign language my body understands.

M. Zane McClellan

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