Tally

The present clenched

inside me—

sits, like a fist

in my gut,

sticking to the ribs

and worrying my mother.

•

I wish to kill the clock

to make this moment last

forever,

•

preserve the kiss

that lit a spark

against teeth,

and the tongue

dangerous enough

to fuck me.

•

But every second flies

further from the glory

of first-happening.

•

I remember shivering,

kissing with wet lips

against the cold

beauty of the Trevi Fountain,

trembling fingers

mimicking divinity in ecstasy,

hoping it might last until next morning,

•

while white denim stalked the

streets of Rome,

declaring itself

through catcalls

and, “Ciao bellas!”

High heels flashing

like admonitions

on cobblestones.

•

A boy, gently quiet in the light,

waiting around corners,

nerve endings twitching

to touch hands,

and my heart opening

like cathedral doors.

•

But the shiver is a shadow

I try to capture again,

and again.

•

First kisses fade, blurring

into all the others

both mediocre and impossibly

beautiful,

•

and we struggle

to keep the fire as bright

as when it was first lit.

•

Every minute

spent in the grocery aisle

takes me further

from my first dog,

poisoned,

crawling under my bed

to die.

•

After, lying under

the covers, curling

into myself

as he did,

sinking through

the bed springs

into his shadow,

contracting fingers

against covers,

as his claws had groped

the hardwood floor,

trying to find purchase

on this transient life.

•

I was a girl once

who laughed in parks,

skirts flying,

hair winging into dusk,

who became the girl

crying into mirrors,

•

who became the girl

in love with the world

and so, at last,

in love with herself.

Afraid of what she’ll become next,

hoping for the best.

•

The boat at the dock

has gone,

but I keep buying a ticket.

•

Hold the body closer

after it's clearly

pulled away.

•

Afraid that if I let go,

these feelings will crumble

into dust,

•

while I haven’t yet.