27. my face went squiggy in his hands, i dribbled a bit
my face went squiggy in his hands, i dribbled a bit, when his square chin rubbed through my shoulder-length hair, that had wound itself into ropey knots on the back of my neck, all the world became a warm heart, like when you throw your head back up, the blood rushes there to beat, & it's as though a child has returned to the world, his freckled hands cupping my ears so that the wind moved through them like shells, his cold bent fingers warming themselves on my burning lobes, it was grey & windy beneath the westgate bridge, pieces of twisted metal & half-visible industrial waste floated among the oily rocks, slick mud from salty trawlers & confronted our shy warm skin, we were made vulnerable, i bet you didn't know we were here today, among gulls flying out along the sea squalls in light rain, my hair becoming entangled & ocean sticky, so that his fingers got caught in it, like a dark net dredging up pale shells, with the things still living in them |
