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Him (Sans Context Clues)

by Veronica Nocella

Sitting / firm, yet soft where sunlight forgets / Today, not afraid to be held / And I hold him / In a snapshot of a peculiar gaze / Half out one window, still staring / The strange geometry of the jawline to lower ear / I meditate on the point of his nose / how it frustrates itself / to be upright for a smile / One day, there will be a hand / And its faces must to unlearn / the harshness of sculpting masculinity / in place / Other times, the palm gets it just right / uses its wiles to sweep the leg / and it rocks back and forth / like a blanket on a restless body / unhinging all the different pressure points / it will be thick / and unruly / a thousand temper tantrums / but then tenderness comes / like any cadence would / and he remembers how a mother’s love is supposed to feel / on the bones / it takes him a while / but I always have time. / Boy comes in every smell / stubborn, impatient / latching onto anything it can find / a sweater / a blanket / an entire afternoon / stay here. / Make time stop with me. / Let me breathe another bad lunch from your teeth. / a series of images that give me peace: / a porous sneaker fresh off the foot / a dissertation of an impromptu shirt stain / a backpack and other trinkets left out to thaw / tiny hairs that dance the delicate spaces of skin / a shy face highlighted by 8PM and a first date’s end. / Sometimes / boy wants so much in one place / because he never learned where to want / Often / boy cries so much in one place / because he never learned where to cry / I forgive it anyhow / Sorry, I don’t mean to stare / but I can’t stop noticing / when your eyes do that thing / where they turn into stray tulips in a fresh May / Yeah, that / Everything I love the most / has made a mistake / and still reminded me of spring / My arms are so small / but I love to make room / there’s an extra pillow here all of the time / Even when there shouldn't be / it is not a crush / Nor Reconciliation / But maybe / a synonym for a thing / hugged tight enough / until it is what I want it to become / the art of praising fragments I choose / and making peace with them

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