My entry for day 3 of the 2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge: “write a ‘the last time I was here’ poem.”
On the edge of the slide, she sat.
I lay my head in her lap, creeping
closer to the soft spot in her chest, telegraphing
desire drunk with the rush of a swing.
If I leapt from the chains, I may fall
right into her lap, face first, but
I kept swinging back, afraid to crack
my neck should she reject my advance.
I sold my soul for a safer dream
as a faithful pup for her to pet
and hug and share her every secret with.
She may not welcome me inside
if she knew I wanted much more
than Wednesday nights out in a park
with her and adopted friends on swings
that made me dizzy. I’d be in bliss
to spend each night inside her bed–
the warmth preferred to the winter chill–
instead of out with other boys
who fought me for scraps that fell off her
as she walked through life unbeknownst
how every boy wanted much more
than a walk in the park. Her room
promised greater prospects to he
who had the courage to leap first, but
though appetites suggested wolves,
we were nothing but pups.
without opposable thumbs
to open the door or even to knock.
Leave a Reply