This work is part of TAG: A Poeta Project. 

“Child’s Pose”

On whispering cold morning,

I stand away from

you

Hesitate

Born to see what you hate

Creeping cautious on silent shadowy toes

You move closer

I push back

And stand

Firm and strong, unyielding.

You are gun metal grey and burnt charcoal

Slightly acrid from stale smoke

I am aware of your scent

In my ears

Your voice

On my tongue

I feel the weight of us

Circling above me.

I drop to my knees, place my hands dry against the slick wooden floor

Fingers stretching out and searching for the cracks

In the tile on the wall I see you

Reflected

Our faces mirror

Our expressions unique in their similarity

I choose not

To recognize myself.

I remain in

Child’s pose

Hoping for the memory of me

To return

By Karen Eckert