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i thought i’d seen it all before;
there is a moment when i’m
slipping and you’re kissing
the part between my hair, sore
from so many misplaced displays of and ways through
those walls you say are true, des-
pite the days i’ve spent
making sure i meant what i said.
i thought i’d stay still for a while,
smiling and biting at chances to spend up
a lottery of glances, my luck as we’re dancing
without
telling you i like this romantic thing,
this feeling like i’m growing wings and
when you leaned in on the patio i
was saying no but i gleaned from the
motion i felt and this ocean of guilt
that i liked it,
i’m lapping it up like milk on my tongue or the
meandering marrow of what smells like love but
i’m spitting out words i won’t want to remember
and wishing i’d known all this back in September when
i stuck myself low in a hole where i go when
i sense an explosion of all i hold close but
i try letting go
letting go
letting go—
the flow of the wind through my dress, at my knees
and the flowers set simply on the table beneath
where i’m standing
all whisper and riddle and reiterate what i’d hate
to admit...
i’d thought i could quit but
i’ve never seen saturdays shot through with glimmering
sins like we’ve stolen, hints of what’s broken not
controlling conversations we’re holding;
for once i lie open, for once i am spoken
for,
my leaves outstretched and my stems hemmed and mended,
you shell out the grit and you’re sanding it over,
polish me up so i glow like a clover left
untouched by winter and i’ll try to deliver but
all i’ve seen withered before sends me shiver-
ing every time i pry at the petals of promises pushing so
soft on my shoulders, so hard at my holding...
back—
i’m in bloom and bearing down on being grounded and
these roots have confounded all i would say if i
hadn’t seen it all before...
Julia Englund
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