Monday, July 16, 2007
"Positions"
I.
I was prettier, sexier then,
and used my beauty
like a siren to devour men
I thought I wanted.
I put myself
into increasingly
precarious positions.
I took chances
with my body
that I would not take
today.
II.
Out in the night alone
like a Gemini
half excited, half depressed;
Sauntering slowly
on the dark side of the street,
listening to the sound
of my heels
clicking in time,
on the sidewalk
to the rise and fall
of my breath.
My perfume swirling
like a tendril of smoke,
infused with the pungency
of the vintage suede jacket
I wore while looking
for trouble.
III.
I felt isolated
sitting at the bar
drinking beer as dark as his skin.
I could feel him
stealing glances at me,
noticing the hem
of my dress
mounting my thigh,
diaphanous and white.
I could feel his stare
so intent that
I knew I sat there
in the bar
suddenly naked.
IV.
His apartment scattered
with candles, incense,
smooth jazz
hung my thoughts
suspended in the air.
Hearing him speak,
but not hearing his words
as he slid the heels from my feet,
as he slid the stockings
from my thighs,
as his oppression
hovered over me;
thinking “He is twice my size,
strong as an ox.”
Thinking
“How will I get out of this one?”
V.
The fiendish look
on his face
had a sobering effect.
My mouth started
making sounds,
and spewing proclamations
of shame and blame.
He looked bewildered
as I inched my way
from under his chest,
more bewildered
as I put on my heels
leaving the stockings
on the floor
like the shed skin
of a sidewinder.
I grabbed my coat
and slithered out the door.
VI.
I walked the dark streets again,
this time not knowing
where I was,
or how to get home.
I no longer felt powerful.
The weight of my
stupidity numbed me,
embarrassed me,
and the only living soul
on the street
was a menacing man
with a stare worse
than the one I just escaped.
I asked him,
“Where do I catch the 15?’
He pointed across the street
and smiled as if he had a secret
that I didn’t want to know.
VII.
3 am I made it home
to the boarding house
of transplanted strangers,
my family,
with feet sore, ego wounded.
Roger waited up for me,
knowing me better these days
than I know myself,
and I slipped into bed with him,
into something safe and easy,
and devoured him instead.
Aleathia Drehmer 2006
Published by Zygote in My Coffee #78
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