Tether and Tender

A poem by MADDY KING.

You. With Fingers
tracing the outlines of my frame
barely there.

The Hairs on your arm
The webs you weave.

Lights off – Black
Oh black
And red.

The light reflected on your skin
In the taxi back.

Black. Eyes closed.
Your sweat on my skin
Its Tether, its Tender
Water, Words, And Blood
Reaching the borders of body
And bone.

And black again
When I open
Your iris.

And no, they didn’t say this

Your muffled knocks at the red door.
That flickered glow above me. Paper thin
And you came in.
Veiled with these cheap curtains.

My hair wet
Bleach tears in beer-stained cubicles
Carpets strung with laughter
And disposable bodies
With virgin limbs.

‘That’s in my head,’ you say.
But you’re in my bed
Every time I am kissed
I run back
Spiralling down the drain.

Words now
Spread across my lips.
But they won’t birth themselves.
Never blooming like roses.

It’s in my head.
It’s in my bed.
My skin envelops your fingerprint,
A crime scene,
But nothing found.

Featured image source: The Estate of Francis Bacon. 

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