I hear your voice on the line
and my mouth waters; a mere hello
transforms me into Pavlov’s dog.
I jot down the message and thank you,
speaking through saliva. When you say goodbye,
your voice drops an octave: honey settling
into the well of my stomach, a chiming bell
summoning the pool of want on my tongue.
~~~
M. Stone is a bookworm, birdwatcher, and stargazer who writes poetry while living in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in San Pedro River Review, SOFTBLOW, Calamus Journal, and numerous other print and online journals. She can be reached at writermstone.wordpress.com.
