Saturday, January 12, 2013

“Inhale My Sphere”

Translate my words with slick-speed
Capture the essence of me
With one single phrase
By converting my meaning into simplicity

Breathe deeply
The muskiness of passion
That swirls and pulsates
In natural rhythms that define me

Watch me cock my head sideways
As mirth erupts with raunchy earthiness
While my fingers caress keys

Laugh with me at the inside joke

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

Friday, January 11, 2013

“In My Skin”

            I disconnected over the last few weeks—from myself. I slipped into a survival mode of busy, busy, busy, busy that allowed me to step aside from thinking, but that also meant I sidestepped writing. I didn’t realize until yesterday that I skipped several days in a row in journaling. Ideas for my blog flitted into my view, but my attention never focused upon these thoughts long enough to do more than jot down a key word or phrase within the spiral where I often brainstorm. I didn’t even go online and pull out an old poem or personal narrative to nudge my blog along.
            I used the holidays and the clean up afterwards to keep my sadness away. There were places to go and people to see, and I avoided allowing myself time to be alone. I decided to go back to work, filled out an application to substitute teach in my old comfort zone, and actually attended the orientation this week. Yesterday, I found myself with another round of house keeping, today I will fill my hours with grocery shopping for the Celebration of Life we host for Mom on Saturday.
            I don’t doubt my motivations. If I sit before a blank page, I realize the great void my mother’s death has created in my life. I realize that I must rediscover who I am separate from wife, mother, sister, or daughter. For so many years, I defined myself by the care I gave for others. Now I must discern my role for this newest path of life. I have to determine my next steps and learn how to move around again in my skin.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

"The Crush"

her heartbeat kicks as he approaches
         her hands fumble
         scattering spirals and papers
                  to her feet
a text tumbles
         skids to a stop by his sneakered foot
a blush heats her neck
         embarrassment and shyness
                  drop her
                           to her knees
she shovels her mess into a careless pile

"Is this yours?"
his voice teases her to look upward
         meet his mischievous eyes
a gallant knight,
         he kneels before her
                  neatly straightening her papers
his smile broadens
         he skims his fingertips over her hand
                  grasps her by the elbow
                           nudges her to her clumsy feet
she ducks her chin to chest
         mumbles, "Thanks"
                  as he confidently strides away
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
         she berates herself
                  for her tongue-tied timidity
surreptitiously, she watches him—
         she longs for his voice to say her name
                           her first kiss
         mixing his hot and eager experience with her innocence
                  stealing her breath—her heart

he ignores the teasing banter of his friends
         feels honored by her worship
                  encourages her with attention
                           gentled by his kindness
he dismisses his own longing
         for her sweetness
he  understands her purity
         he cherishes
                  her silent longing
he knows
         his fast and furious nature
                  lures, tempts, mesmerizes
                           and so he protects her from herself

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman