10463758175_6dbe619986_o

Cinderella upon Remembering Bruno

 

Her hands

down by her sides

 

Also her drink of choice

and how she speaks to

the bartender

 

Her subtle, slow

I’ve got all day

burn

Her soft, worn t

shirt, with the ironic team

player number “0”

and letters “mvp”

 

After pints jokes

shared fears

enough flirting to

bruise my

eyelashes

I press into her

 

She tastes like

Clove Gum and

Newports

she smiles while

she kisses me

 

I touch her jeans

She exhales and

whispers to me, “wait”

I feel her pocket

there’s something so

hard and sure

I reach in, find

lint, sand, stardust

 

A dog biscuit.

 

Shoot, she says

I gotta let him out

I’ve got to go

My fingers trace

the letters

m-i-l-k b-o-n-e

as she exits the palace

 

I am the hopeful prince

without footmen

no one to trumpet

my spousal search

or midnight departed

hook up

 

Roaming the blocks

in the evening cool

In search of a house

with a dog and

a girl who

makes me suffer

want

 

Ambling along

I worry the biscuit

with untrained

hands, silty crumbs

powdering the

pavement with

yearning

 

I am part prince

part stray

loping,

back to the bar

 

Elbowed by

the memory

of her

mouth on mine

 

How she kissed

my neck

breathed me in

gently bit

 

left her wet

mouth mark


IMG_3889Judith Taylor is a professor of Women and Gender Studies at the University of Toronto.

featured image by Antonella Stecco

Advertisements