Kick
Drink the mustard brown.
The lock-down pile of books
Leaning from my shelves.
Their spines spell my sentence
<dust fingered from the ones on top>
Sixteen more days of dreaming you.
I walk within your skin,
My broad leaf hands spread
Tailoring my memory
Of what it feels like to be ‘the man’
To dominate.
Knowing now the benefits
<Of having>
Long fingers
A boy’s height
A girl’s lips
Hair that gets in your face when we kiss
- All this
I’m just sorry that absence
Makes things so much harder
But drink, sip, suck
Get a kick from it,
Days pass quick
When you’re drunk on caffeine
And tasting the bottom of your stash
Of patience-your clothes sit there
Knotted in the mess of mine.
You ripped your cords,
And left them here for me to fix.
I sew my absent minded stitches
Your ‘little woman’ after all.
I walk within your skin
Tailoring my memory.
And holding close
to what you left behind,
sew my absent minded stitches
just to pass the time.
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Submission Name: Kick
