to a singer

[tom.d.stiller]

to a singer

your shirt half open, your skirt
so micro, so revealing
no bra supports your naked
voice, the blues unveils the raw
hide of your soul, the heart
beats the twelve bars of your wound.

you're on stage making love to
the metre of untouchable
desire, so remote from flesh
your lascivious movements are
and so immaculate your breasts
that blow the blouse apiece.

your body is the visible
layer of a voice so true
and beautiful that no one sees
how ugly the pores and wilted
your thighs. you resurrect the fall
of pain, the spring of heat

and make available the summer
by resonating winter tunes.
your shirts and skirt revealing
much, your voice uncovers all
the souls and bodies, all
the listener's hidden parts,

after the final chord has faded
you bow your head and tie
the garments loosely once again
before the recreation of another
universe of shamelessly vocal
undressing of another song.

[lizzytysh]

Great as is, Tom! How many times have I watched them [both male and female, in fact] onstage, and had similar thoughts as you've expressed here!

~ Lizzytysh

[witty_owl]

G'day Tom. Such a revealing ( ) portrait of a blues singer.

Hoot, an owl for the blues.