I am looking
at my naked self

   you are looking
at it too

my milk-bottle skin
     wisps of hair buttered up
   to the wrist

this is one of those
   mortifyingly awkward
   situations

     like giving a presentation

standing all gangly

an unwrapped
   second-rate present

     that you didn’t really want

   my clothes are
a primary-coloured splash
     by my feet

     and I expect you to talk
  
to cease the blistering
silence in the room
   but you only nod

eyes on me

   slither your bra strap
down one arm