thirteen and a half times

December 1, 2006  |  poetry

in the last hour
I only thought about you
thirteen
and a half
timestwice I thought of your legs your thighs clad in jeans or skirted fabric swirling or stockings (god) the way your knees touch when you’re driving the way your ankles curl when you walk – but then I stopped thinking of your legs your thighs the curve of the back of your knee ’cause my attention slips quickly quietly to the s of your spine down your backside – and I get easily distracted there, so I try not to think of your lovely, long legs

three times I thought of your luminous smile, the way your cheek feels like silk, like velvet, like ice cream melting when you’ve just come in from the cold night air

once I thought about twirling you on the dancefloor, leading you in inside-turns and outside-turns, in the sugarpush and the skid-pass and the charleston, circling around each other until we come back into a closed basic and I can kiss you as I hold you close and dip you low

twice I thought about the curve of your hips, the bone of your pelvis and how it fits next to mine like puzzle pieces like the cap of a pen clicks onto the barrel

once I thought of that look you gave me across the room, from the couch, which said, take me and i’m yours and i love you and i wish you were inside me right now and i still feel you everywhere (or maybe that’s what my look said) and I wanted to jump, dive, claw, climb out of my chair over to you, push everyone out of the way so I could taste you, put my hands on your skin, hear to you gasp, breathe into my ear, hold you close

once I thought of the way your fingertips feel on my neck, casual, the way you leave them there while we sit in a circle of friends

twice I thought of that way you laugh when you’re nervous, gentle and slow, while your eyes dance, searching for recognition, searching for someone to see you

once I visualized you in a rocking chair, homemade hippie afgan wrapped around your shoulders, cradling a baby, looking up at me with a look that said, look what we did, or we should do this too, or I’m an aunt, or isn’t this amazing, or awe – I’m not sure what it was, but you looked at me and saw me and I wanted to lasso the moon for you, wanted to sing buffalo gals won’t you come out tonight, I want to see that look again & again, what could I possibly do to get you to look at me like that, I would do anything

then I thought of all the things I’ve said to you, all the ways I want to tell you I adore you, I desire you, I want to know you, want to hold you, want to watch you grow and hold my hands like a stirrup you can step into, hands on my shoulders, so you’ll be able to reach the windowsill two floors up – and that was maybe more about me but half about you too, cause you’re holding your own and you’re holding me and we match blend mix together like a potent chemical combination, combustible, barely contained

thirteen
and a half
times
isn’t very many
considering how many hours
your magic
your trilling, smoky voice
your sweet smile
your raw insights
have taken flight, making nests
inside my canopies
settling in
hour after hour
after hour

Inspired by the Sunday Scribblings prompt “in the last hour.”Update: featured on the Fleshbot Sex Blog Roundup 08 December. (Thanks Jefferson!)

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13 Comments


  1. great debut, sinclair. i was intrigued by the 'half', it was a good hook – though now you've left me thinking about the window two floors up. nice one!

  2. Wonderfully sensual (I wondered about the "half" too). I loved the bit about the rocking chair and wanting to sing buffalo gals won't you come out tonight.

  3. Beautiful and sensual debut – well done!

  4. I really enjoyed this. Do tell us though – what's her name?

  5. well, I am glad you did not linger in the shadows and came out with this debut piece.Nicely done!

  6. That was a stellar work of prose. My God what you did with this weeks prompt… wonderful, wonderful piece.

  7. This is really inspiring. It made my heart ache with longing. What a lucky girl she is. Beautiful. http://www.singingthesky.com

  8. Nice stuff. It makes me think of that line from Pinter's play BETRAYAL: I don't have to THINK of you. . . – with thoughts like that it's amazing you had time for thirteen and a half meditations!

  9. What a wonderful debu! I'm looking forward to your next week piece already.

  10. What a beautiful love story.Thanks for sharing.

  11. that is amazing, you’ve got me as a reader!

  12. I was looking through the archives because it's late at night and I came upon this poem and I wanted to cry because of how many women, myself included, loved or lonely or steadfastly single or placidly married, sit wishing for someone to say these things to them. To adore them, create a love song like this and say it in public, to think about them thirteen and a half times in one hour- and admit to it. Thank you for restoring my faith in the butch's romantic heart.

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