Original Poem
MOTHERING EYES
that long gaze
penetrating
straight
into our
souls
fantasies
that divide
my knees
in two
a touch
that seemed
nice
enough
my
fingers found friends
while hanging around
her hands
changing in the closet
left open just a crack
only
the devil
inside me
reacts
our
conversations
on repeat
braiding her hair
in the summer time
heat
moments melt
like a red popsicle
d r i p p i n g
down her hand
I am
((not))
suppose
to look
at her
lips
or
hips
It’s all
very
strange
It’s all
very
weird
Oh —
she’ll look
with those
big doe eyes
And...
Who am I to decide?
Who I am inside.
