Performed by Val Cole
POEM:
The way I feel
lives in the muscle of your thigh
right before it moves.
Coiled in anxious yes.
Waiting to reach past
Its own name,
to take control and grab you
without hesitation.
Every nerve at attention as hands
clench and tighten around the air.
The quiet game of waiting.
You stand there in anticipation
to feel me everywhere I’m not touching.
This feel turns to want, echoing across
your body, it tugs and arches your lower back
leaning into quiet pause.
Everything cracks like it’s owed
something.
I don’t need the stretch
nor do you.
What we need is release
The ache that cracks everything open
without breaking it.
You open your mouth and yawn
nothing happens.