Tuesday, March 20, 2012

scintilla | five more minutes

Day 5: Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Prompt 2: Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?

NB: Only the first part of the prompt is answered in this post; the rest I am sure will follow. I wrote this poem as part of a college poetry workshop years ago, and at first I didn't want to use it for Scintilla, this beautiful project, but my heart drew me back to it over and over. Even in remembering it I have felt the spark of what that kind of writing felt like. In itself it represents so much of who I used to be -- writer, dreamer, student, much more. xo, lm.

Five More Minutes

Five more minutes:
does it take that little
to convince me to fall back into your arms
for what will inevitably become another hour?
When we finally decide to get up,
I’ll tickle your foot for a scowl,
then you’ll watch
as I get dressed
fumbling with red lace.
After kicking through piles
of clothes of shoes of belts,
I’ll be dressed
and I’ll dive back in bed
after my pout demands from you
another kiss.
Did I tell you, laughing,
that when we woke this morning
and you sat at the computer,
that I was watching you?
Oh! you saw me, and I smiled,
leaned out of bed like willow over water:
kiss me.
Last night I became shy
because of the open window
and right next to it, my bare skin,
so you pulled closed the shade.
Now, I wish it were open
to cast sunlight over our bodies,
to lighten your face and my hair,
to highlight the folds
where your brow goes up,
the fullness of your lips: raw red,
pink at the edges after a night
-- not even properly, mere hours --
of hard kissing,
from water to wind,
stumbling against railings
and up paths
to fall across doorsteps and clothing.
This is all that I think about
as I watch you get dressed
and I understand now,
watching your body move,
watching you watch me,
because every look is the way you see it,
the way you want it, you’re left.
Stay with me, five more minutes,
let’s pull the shade and let the sun
play off of the leaves of our park,
play into the green of your brown eyes,
the mint of my long hair,
let the sun play off of my skin at the wide window,
and the ripples under the blanket,
let the sun highlight the folds where your brow goes up
when I laugh, at remembering
the fullness of those lips.
Let the sun capture me:
the willow leaning over water, whispering
kiss me, kiss me, five more minutes.

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