We had a talk after our first real date
I used Sharon Olds’s Gold Cell as segue
poems of damage and fracture
told like a spy from war.
I needed you to know
enough to understand
enough to get why.
Before I shed my clothes
I had to untie those secrets
to lay them out across our laps.
Feet up on the coffee table
I had to look away as I always do
and tell you
how damaged I was
how broken my heart had been
before I ever saw it coming.
How it wouldn’t be personal
how it wouldn’t be about you
how I carried this weight all my life
how I didn’t know if I could rest it.
You sat stone quiet
arm across my shoulders
you kissed my hair
locking your knees under mine.
Originally published in Carnival: Black, White, and Coffee and also part of All the Tiny Anchors.
Sarah Thursday 