When I think of you
It’s a special secret. I keep you
In a locked drawer. I take you
Out, when I need to feel you
Something other than me hating
Myself. I play with your hair. Your
Toes. I play…this little piggie
I am a mother… Insatiable.
I am incessant; I want and need
And fantasize, I am human as much
As a flower is flower. My pollen knows
Nothing. It’s all instinct. In a
Garden. Forgive me. Just an Eve.
For the times
I held you near. Bit. Tasted.
I may have hurt you
More than intended.
I might have loved
you
Harder, than Jesus. More excruciating
Would be your arms out
Me crucifying, God not watching us.
Silly woman with a
Cross to bear. How I covet the touch
And the fairytale—
I’m sorry for being me. For having
These needs.
Photo by Gabor Palla from FreeImages
