I want to make love to my buried self.
I want to draw her up.
I want to kiss her on the lips,
put her head against my *******
I want to say
“It’s safe to come out now,”
fingers uncrossed, inviting.
Then
If she’ll let me
I want to press her so close
that atoms merge,
flesh swells;
The afterimages will float before my eyes
And she will stitch into my surface
like a second skin-
a shift in posture,
in the angle of my jaw.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 5:50 PM UTC
I want to make love to my buried self.
I want to draw her up.
I want to kiss her on the lips,
put her head against my *******
I want to say
“It’s safe to come out now,”
fingers uncrossed, inviting.
Then
If she’ll let me
I want to press her so close
that atoms merge,
flesh swells;
The afterimages will float before my eyes
And she will stitch into my surface
like a second skin-
a shift in posture,
in the angle of my jaw.
Copyright Hannah Kollef 2011
