By Kate Maxwell
You don’t scare me
with your compliments
the way you stand so close
brush fingertips along forearms
hold my eye too long
softly wind your winning
smile around tissues in my
optical lobe, so shaken up with
your motion, form, and shards
of all your silver words.
Knock me out. I dare you.
Pitbull persistent
in the scent of intruders
those with careful
knowing aim, affections
learned, then quickly feigned
I’ve traced undertones of ethanol
in your sweet, husky scent
a barren hunger in your keto
breath, searing its hot kiss
across my pale uncherished cheeks.
Turn off the light. I dare you.
So, you wait
in dirty shadows, just to
watch, crawling into
holes or fears unlocked
and all under the guise of good
all to gather what you could of
any use. Cat-pawed, you now
creep into the emptiness so long
accrued, and sucked within my stoic
cold, seek shelter in my solid hold.
Stay with me. I dare you
Kate Maxwell is yet another teacher with writing aspirations. She’s been published and awarded in Australian and International literary magazines such as Cordite, Hecate, fourW, Meniscus, Blood and Bourbon, and Brilliant Flash Fiction. Kate’s interests include film, wine, and sleeping. Her first poetry anthology will be published with Interactive Publications, Brisbane, in 2021. She can be found online here.