Smothering

If I saw him sauntering down the street by the university
I wonder which impulse would overwhelm me first:

to wrap him in my arms as if covering a sick child
in a sentimental blanket, and press his slender
warm torso to mine and pull my palms along
the knobs of his spine?
As if to engulf or consume him

or to grab his lovely, sun-kissed neck
with one open hand and smother him slowly
against a wall, connecting my fist with his
perfect cheekbone, savoring each wince.

Rage and desire wrap so tightly in my twisting heart
and they are both about his body.
So I don’t visit that town anymore.
I won’t let myself see what could happen

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s