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Ever notice?
It means nothing to them?
those girls with peaches and cream, café au lait, peau de couleur foncée
their lush hair, plump calves, rosy cheeks
kiss us like they mean it with open mouth, little inquiring tongue
force of two coming together, chests heaving in sync
who knew straight girls could give so much in the heat of a moment?
unhooking bras, peeling underwear, knowing they’ll be kissed where
their boyfriends press with lack of ardor
for we girls are midnight foxes, we stay in places others only visit
fleetingly
complaining of neck pain, jaw pain, inability to know the ins and outs
oh we know the ins and outs, we know the inside curl and the convex
like a well drawn map
they pull their panties down for us so eagerly, we’d be fooled into thinking
they were of our same kind
save the removal of warmth, after all is reached and swept
beneath damp sheets for memory to play. Saying;
Goodbye, Bon Nuit. I must go now, it’s getting late, he will wonder why
I’m not at home with dry underwear
perhaps even opening herself to him, that very evening to atone
for her strung up, hidden outside pleasure
such is the girl who cannot love other girls and yet
finds only release in what they might know and give
surely one of the same mold knows, the key a little better
willing then, to bend and contort, stay for an hour in one position
without complaint
her breasts making dents of thin cotton, her fists curling like words out loud
the nape of her neck, slick and wet with her urge
she doesn’t reciprocate, her kind never will
she’s the impossible beauty, a girl who loves girls seeks
unattainable, disinterested, sinking to the floor in shame at
the concept of trading places
she’ll give you the time it takes to make her cry out
leave an imprint of her body against your mattress
the ink and glow of her skin a permanent reminder
she’ll never be one of you, nor wish
to lend you her heart
only her glorious body and all its angular expressions
only those afternoon moments
when he hasn’t pleased her or she
longs for your brand of deep caress, how you know
what to do to make her moan
fingers against fingers, thighs, hips, buttock
she is every shape of lovely from her arching neck
to the indent in her pelvis where she lets you stray
and play such secret music
things never to be admitted or spoken aloud
when you meet in public you are two women
buttoned up and indifferent like bleached wood
betraying nothing of her torn blouse or
the slide of her stockings from willing legs opening
how she pushes against you to enter her
fill with longing the bursting pulse within
you want to tell her you have loved her since
first meeting
when rain brought her to the library and shyly
you asked if she needed a towel and she replied
no I like to get wet, it never rains enough
her eyes grey and huge, like lamps in darkness
you think of teasing her hair from perpetual dampness
on her thin arms and how flung back they resemble
an instrument to be ravished
how you curl around her with your ardor and pressing
deeply fulfill your own needs against her loveliness
not shared, without return, a woman who will
pack herself away and leave by mail
like an unwritten postcard she is blank, unwilling
to be spoken
you stay in silence afterward
her breathing ragged, gasping you want to hear her
say I love you in every way, especially how you
set me alight with your touch and every time you
kiss me with your full lips I moan even more for
the core of your very heart
Lorsque tu résonne jusqu’à mon coeur
tu capture mon esprit pour le faire voyager
these things of torment
to a girl who loves other girls
and falls for a woman who is already
moving away
merely using your hands and your mouth
as if plucking leaves from a deciduous tree
to see if indeed they will
fall and stay
on the ground
hijacked amygdala 