Fingertips (circa 2007)

You touched my breasts in August in
Quick nibbling pinches and giggled like
A child in heat, and I,
Dumbfounded and slightly impressed,
Threw punches and scattered
My limbs across the floor.

Fall came and went;
The changing of leaves brought
The changing of hearts,
And I pulled a slug from between your teeth.
It hit the floor. It inched across your toes.
You pretended you were anything but caught.

Now I want your teeth like crushed ice
Circling in a tumbler.

Say what you will about nights spent in bars
Instead of me being wrapped
Up in arms.
Maybe that's just my idea of closure.
Yeah, that's right. I think that's closure.
It's better feigning interests in girls
With dimples in their chins just to prove
A point, just to say you've won.
I'm not one for victory dances
'Cause victories seem to avoid me,
The same way you would on nights
When you received a more promising call,
And I'd stay tucked in a cold hard bed
Swallowing cliches and tasting defeat.

I thought I'd have more to say about
All of the summer nights spent exposed
In the crisp, manufactured air,
Sheets bunched around our feet,
Legs circling backs and arms like pillars
Next to my ears.
I thought I'd remember more than the
Swollen eyes and the months that would pass
When every word I'd write would bear your name.
I hoped sometimes that you would read them
And tell me that everything was true--
That you had lost in the first place,
That you had never touched gold.
Though I know I could never expect much from you:
Just heavy prose and nipping fingers, picking
At flesh.