Laid Bare
I feel naked under the weight of your gaze.
As though I shrugged off my raincoat
astonished to find bare skin underneath that shell.
I shiver, feeling the newly exposed flesh
brushed by chill autumn air.
I can’t help wondering,
how did I forget the shirt, the shoes,
the socks and pants, before leaving the house?
Small droplets slip into my eyes.
The rain I walked through to meet you.
They speckle my body,
binding together, they form rivulets that trail
between my shoulder blades.
I feel the jutting of my hipbones into the
space between us wondering
Do they look as boney to you as they do to me?
My words tumble out in a stream like the
water draining down my body.
Puddling at my feet.
I am hoping to build a dam with my words,
Piling them up against each other
staving the deluge.
Useless, the mounds of ideas grow
shifting like ill-conceived sandbags
They float off downstream, stranding me.
Your face placid against the onslaught
poised, composed.
Unconcerned by the bared skin,
the torrent of words,
the outpouring and my discomfort.
You reach behind you and
Hand me your umbrella.
