Bend
© jhene erwin 2003 all rights reserved
It’s you, I choose.
Your surface is so very smooth.
My reflection rippling in a shallow pool.
I’m your slip of pliancy in electric blue.
I should know better than to bend to your name.
What is it I’ve forgotten that I need to regain.
The inside of your cheeks are raw.
Your stare, dense with harm.
Cruelty lines your palms.
In your chaos, I find calm.
I should know better than to bend to your name.
What is it I’ve forgotten that I need to regain.
In isolation, perfection reigns.
Unschooled in my decent,
ancestral guidance is muted by shame.
I should know better than to bend to your name.
What is it I’ve forgotten that I need to regain.
I know that this isn’t love.
In my fingers, homage shines.
I back in to the corner.
Your command deaf to my shattering spine.
With the palms of your hands
you press closed my eyes
and I know that this can’t last
as you brush over my thighs.
I should know better than to bend to your name.
What is it I’ve forgotten that I need to regain.
