I just love it when I feel her
uncurl in my ear, pushing two
soft tongues there. I arch, unfolding,

as she rolls me with soft knuckles
and holds all my longing bones there.
My head lolls, cupped with two, three hands

that pull me falling forwards, where
slightly fingers tighten in my hair.
and hold me as she starts to sing.

[an earlier version of the poem]
the music is No es tan cierto by Juana Molina.