My obsession…

the tiny masochist of you

scurrying in your own terrified delight

under my palm.

The knowing of you crawling around

in the hollow of my hand

pleases me more than I am willing to tell.

My whim is to leave you there

to enjoy feeling the scratch and eventual sprawl

of you over my lifeline.

 

Ask for air when this day is gone.

Until then, every stone step you take

you are collared and chained to me

for me

dancing blissful gypsy s’ in circles

for only me.

 

Nothing is anything

if not an extension

of you for Me.

Nothing is anything

if not an extension

of Myself for you.

 

Elizabeth Fellows

6/27/2020, 4am