“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

“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.

"The Crush"

flustered

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

                  daydreams

                           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