12.11.2005

Poetry Sunday

Maybe a new tradition? Don't know. I've been playing around with the idea of posting old journal entries every Friday, but I can't really bring myself to make fun of them publicly yet. My poems are another story. Most of them are embarrassingly bad, so I'll post them from time to time. However, for tonight, I'm posting one I've actually always liked. I can't remember if I've posted it before. Forgive me if I have.

Imprints

The goosebumps rose on my arms
every time the door opened,
the rain-wet air sending coffee smells
swirling around my head.
Your jacket hung tantalizingly
on the back of your chair -
you weren't cold -
and at a glance from me
you handed it over.
I wrapped it around me -
it was still warm from your body
and smelled of your skin -
and rubbed my cheek on the olive-green corduroy.
I fell asleep with my head on my arms,
forehead against my coffee mug,
listening to jazz
and you turning the pages of your book.
When I woke it was to your smile
which I mirrored sleepily,
and you laughed softly as you reached out
to touch the imprints
your jacket had left on my skin.

16 February 2000

2 comments:

whitetiger said...

That's some really crazy stuff.

Kristy said...

Uhhhh....
Not the first time I've been called crazy, but good crazy or bad crazy?