Unknown, unsafe,
body-heat scent,
already too warm on
visions of
spent time,
under a dragon’s fire,
request, resent
rebuffed desire – turn
on a dime, a slimy smile,
dirty, greasy,
hot-breath all the
while – “you know
you shouldn’t
dress that way,
body speaking
differently
to that which words
say, attention,
attention,
then brush it away,
enter the game and
refuse to play…”
Levelled anger –
apologise,
no intent to mislead
cold eyes,
as far as I know, I
rolled no dice; I moved no
pawn, no rook:
no invitations are
needed to look,
equally none
were offered for touch
-
but closer, closer, disquieting,
back to the wall,
you can’t come in,
vile whispers standing
between fear and
escape,
paralysed steps to
knowing ‘safe’,
that towering presence,
…that smirking rage…
the wolf is wearing
the clothes of a
sheep,
a vision too benign
for them all to
see the things that pitch
and churn inside,
pale and trembling
beneath a thin disguise,
hammering heart, neck-hairs aligned,
no quieter now
with the passage of
time,
and the turning
of the world
under all of these
stars…
Just one thing: old adage - ‘I’ve seen
how you are’
- wound opened, fresh scar.
