(Sometimes I am reluctant to post a poem because I worry about people I know reading it and that’s when I make myself, because this isn’t for those people.)
I have tried very hard
not to write poems about your hair,
curls to knot my fingers in.
Or use the same cliché’s about
eyes so blue I could drown in them.
And as much as I’d like,
I worry about the practicality of
advertising the absolutely perfect fit
of your hands around my throat.
But it hurts my chest to imagine you
and I get dizzy when your mouth covers me,
smothers me, perfection. Chemically
compatible, maybe, could be.
There is safety in the hollow
where your neck bends, for
both of us.