I keep listening,
ears sharpened into tuning forks.
Waiting for the voice that will
thrum through my bones,
every morrow coated canal.
An unseen transportation system,
a miniature London or Paris under skin.
Waiting for a tone,
a voice like gaslight,
to sing it awake.
Missing an Ocean
She thinks of his eyes,
drained of fins and dancing tentacles.
His voice husked,
torn, branch by branch,
a whole coral reef disappearing
from her ears.
It grips her,
the knowledge that his presence
will dry away
and become nothing more than
a rim of salt under her nails.
Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who spends any free time reading or writing. She watches over a veritable army of pets, including her five, very spoiled, snakes. Her works have appeared in numerous publications and her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web. She lives in Miami, Florida.