Pre-occupations in a Warm Spell
Because movement across continents regards many types of love,
there’s a name for that moment when you step away from a window,
the light spreading to places I wasn’t aware of. Blessed with the
honey-flood of maple floorboards, I am walking barefoot —
a lover to a friend— the one I refused to marry just to keep
the cologne of cut lavender fresh between us. We both agree,
the most breathtaking dress is the one a woman doesn’t wear.
Fabric is most memorable off the body and limbs savour
the pine air between them more than they fear a damp grave.
Just as my bare chest feels adored when immersed in a salty lake
—anxiety is quelled by the lapping of an ancient motion.
No one has an easy exit from touch, no matter how frequent.
When soul-dating Freud’s cousin, we check on each other’s minds
before he unbuttons our swollen shade. I’ve been taught
to let others pass first—even the offspring of my traitors.
In intimacy, what can be removed, is sacred to a human.
You travel elsewhere and I am left to miss your occupation.
Miss it, then tender its hollows, clothless, free of my belongings
—the sail of a white sheet thrown over my life.
Vikki C. is a British-born, award-nominated writer, poet, musician and author of The Art of Glass Houses (Alien Buddha Press, 2022) and Where Sands Run Finest (DarkWinter Press, 2024). Vikki’s poetry and fiction are published or forthcoming in venues such as Psaltery & Lyre, The Inflectionist Review, Amethyst Review, Emerge Literary Journal, and Black Bough Poetry, among others. Her writing has been nominated for Best of the Net and the Orison Best Spiritual Literature. Twitter: @VWC_Writes