Should You Ask At Midnight by Jennifer Reeser
What would I do without your voice to wake me?
Cor ad cor loquitur, Iâ€™m loath to know.
Kitsch operas sound, unhesitant to shake me,
The sheers undrawn, the heavens hardly showing,
My camisole askew, of lace-trimmed black â€“
Not red, not white; not passionate or pure.
I raise the volume, and the voices crackâ€”
Vanilla scores: accessible, obscure.
But what would I do without your certain voice?
Disjecta membra ... I am loath to think.
This negligÃ©e is sable, but my choice
If black had been forbidden, would be pink:
The blood of ballet satins, quartz, the lover,
That cut from which I never could recover.