Relatively Long Arms
For his sake I steered clear of flicker,
singed the noodles, sang for supper—
sundown at last on the bad-news New Year—
hung left, left and cut to quicker,
steered clear of neon but stoked the fire
with a store-bought log. Flame took the ticket,
twitched and admitted one—nervous romantic’s
hopeless tic—One on one,
on one condition. Lover stuttered.
Wax log sputtered. Steered clear of taxi
but brought him a present, unwrapped the itch
I made from scratch. Longing’s been
a long time coming. Ask me if
we’re nowhere yet. Earth? Old girl got
the spins, closed her eyes and rubbed
for stars, twirled to new resolutions,
a circular saw-to, saw him a round peg,
me, square hole made do. Clear of crosswalk.
Oh to try a tighter orbit,
snag the scarf in the celestial machinery,
pull him so close he can’t tell
his bell from my whistle, tell him
tell the moon that Dora sent you.