365 Poems/47 Best Chance (Rough First Draft)
He understands my shoulders,
where knots gather,
and knows I like his mouth
and tongue sudden, like a shock.
He knows the loneliest place for me
is my own head.
Yesterday, he told me
I was beautiful, then said
to never look a bear in the eye.
He has clear words today,
reminds me to keep my back straight.
I just have time to do a quick ponytail
and then boil the kettle.
But I end up back here, elbows
on the edge, making hollows
in the frost that has lasted
My emotions are focused
on the moment of impact.
What happens then?
I’ve had plenty of time
to research but never have.
Now it all seems pointless
I never kissed his mouth
He tells me not to censor my mind,
and rubs my tired back.
He says no, when he’d rather say yes.
I am thrown off balance by his shirt,
and its faint smell of washing powder.
But I can recover it.
My best chances are all around me.