The Loss of Will
I crash in explaining I
am leaving and
you’re in some kind of frou-frou dress thing
and as you listen you
begin slipping it over your head
hands disappearing
as they float from your sleeves
I pace
and rant
and
saying nothing you pause me
tossing your hair from your face
you let it drape your
shoulder toward your breast
hanging off center
almost sad
you take my hand
stroke it against your tight face
then slowly move it down
your body
your arms wrapping around me
mouth finding my ear
my dilapidated heart leaps
to meet you and
toying with the hollow of your throat
I reach to drink from you
my will devolving
again.
©2011 by Vincent O’Connor. All rights reserved.
First published in Poetry Super Highway the week of November 14-20, 2011
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash
I crash in explaining I
am leaving and
you’re in some kind of frou-frou dress thing
and as you listen you
begin slipping it over your head
hands disappearing
as they float from your sleeves
I pace
and rant
and
saying nothing you pause me
tossing your hair from your face
you let it drape your
shoulder toward your breast
hanging off center
almost sad
you take my hand
stroke it against your tight face
then slowly move it down
your body
your arms wrapping around me
mouth finding my ear
my dilapidated heart leaps
to meet you and
toying with the hollow of your throat
I reach to drink from you
my will devolving
again.
©2011 by Vincent O’Connor. All rights reserved.
First published in Poetry Super Highway the week of November 14-20, 2011
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash
