Summer Poetry Slam 2014 Winner - Week 3
by: Imma Somniac
I heard whistles late last night
after my lover had drifted to sleep.
Quietly I crept
to the bathroom for a drink
and it was there under dim lights
that a whistle blew in my ear.
It wasn’t shrill like the kind
a drum major blows
to start the march in a St. Patrick’s parade.
It was softer than that, a subtle howl
Like a wet finger tracing over the rim
of an expensive wine glass.
Two more whistles chimed in
and stacked on one another blowing
the trio made a harmonious sound
like the music that plays in artistic films when
the main character is trying to figure things out.