It’s been a while. A lover
Blue, a beckoning, an overdose,
An accident, a seamstress.
She always knew how to love like a woman.
Watching,
Telling it clearly through her expanse of skin.
Legible, I read her. And I finish her like a book
Sitting, then, on my chest.
Digging for a closer point of contact.
Collecting dirt on mounting time.
I’ve been without you after having been
With you, only now, I have—only—thought
About you. The weight of your feet
On my shoulders, slim
Ly lingers. I push back.
Your eyes on my eyes.
As chilly, grey weather passes
Memory revolts up the spine.
She, still attached to the media
I post online, I — beg
inning to think I’m a fool. My
Self-control wanes as
I walk into your place of work
And unbutton my jean dress
Unknot my underwear
From my thighs, bare
Fore, for my wanting you.
Some saw a spectacle
Some an object fear of death
Or, a lover’s theatre bound
into procession.
AMELIA F. LOVETT is informed by writers of the area of Amherst, MA.
A focus in love and loss, war and what is missing, and sensational personal data. A book thief with a measure of good grief and hope for the future. Amelia is a born resident of the Great South Bay.
lemon yellow press 