Sunday, December 20, 2015

Poem Series: TEPID

Liz Fink-Davenport

You thought you could. Do a love that is soft edged and safe. This is what I need, you said. Like reheated coffee. Like hour old toast. It's still coffee. It's still toast. You wanted it to happen and jump start your heart. Even a bit. You wanted to lay in a bed next to someone and you think; Sure, this fits. It's ok. It's almost good.

And then me. And then. Me. I'm not polite. I'm not simple. I'm not timid. I lick my lips and ask for more. I create and bathe in chaos. I am sleeping until afternoon washed the bedcovers golden and staying out until stars fade. I'm uncomfortable. I'm a love that smears it's lipstick down your neck like warpaint. I break hearts and headboards. I stop the traffic to redirect it. I demand riots and roars. I will not be told. I tell. I walk this world like it is a turn and a fight. I bring a heart flaming and fierce and lit like a damn bonfire to the sky. I shoot rockets from my hips and move nations with my sway. I am hard. I am barrier reefs. Great Walls of China. A fortress set ablaze. And you look at me like a frightening wild thing. Caged, I'm beautiful. Loose in your head and heart, am I too much?