i saw the way he slightly moved his lips
with every word i sang
i felt his arse grind hard
into the seventeenth century ochre brocade chair
watched his hands flatten on the chaise edge
preparing for the knife wound bit
so i sang 'perche, signor?'
i saw the people moved, i felt the physics
i could feel the motion inside us tumbling all over each other
scrabbling for peace and resolution
it came thru me
i was the aperture wide enough to let the light shine in
on the human voice
but with this expression
this gift of electricity
lighting up stations
they all looked not at me, with the stage lights thru my blonde hair
my performance, presence, sheer expression
they looked to him.
they were drawn to the communion.
but to the receiving
the transformation of a human, upon receiving joy.