Poetry Archives - Kate Bowden

I can almost call you mentally

and attach you to my fingertips,

where my arms can take rough hold

and play exciting games with your skin

And lose my inhibitions to

the mouth on that freckly-child face-

the one with the sticked-up morning hair

and innocent but stinging lips

that told me you were different,

that you weren’t like me at all.

But something about you also said you’d fit me,

moulding against me like you’d begun there

and in my present, chaste state,

almost eight months later

I find your fingertips burning my skin through my nightly dream.

Nick