I
she has woven a basket
for catching glances. it is a fine weave,
much finer than she normally weaves,
but then it is special. it is for a purpose.
it is for catching a man.
II
not just anyone mind you.
Him. the guy over there, the one
whose smooth skin spills out of his T shirt
like, like, oh
like God. there I've said it. He's more beautiful than God.
III
her heart has been boiled
until soft, until there are little
bits of it crumbled off
making islands in the water.
she picks up the masher.
IV
his first smile
hits her
like a fist
between
the eyes.
V
what? what? the room's
too noisy to hear,
she doesn't care,
she just wants his breath again
on her bared neck.
VI
lick
flick
no I don't think you're sick,
no you aren't moving too fast
yet.
VII
he sleeps.
his arm is rigid
behind her neck.
her nipples
trace lines of regret.
VIII
Watch. Watch my hands.
See? Nothing.
Nothing at all.
I'll turn them over for you.
You see? I'm not hiding anything.
IX
You think I believe you?
you think I don’t know that
as soon as I turn away
as soon as,
you'll turn me into a poem?
X
there is
a dent
in the pillow
where his head was
last night.
XI
a knotted
hook
is hard
to
untangle.
XII
she weaves
fine flax strips
sliced from
the white heart
the cold white heart of the bush
sliced
fine flax strips
she weaves.
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