What Can Move Me Now

Written by: Allison Ballard

What can move me now?

Like a flower I am stuck,
 in a hole, in a rut
And time will dig me deeper still.

When chattering keys
and computer screens
and the tease of free knees
about the library
are far too clear to me
when I can’t stand 
or breathe

Leather boots and coffee stains
bleed rings in papers puckered lines
And paint these purple floors.
Mundane life outside of me
makes my chaos seem to be
a crime,
an awful dream
This air hangs heavy on my lips
It holds me steady, cinches, dips
And pins me like a bandit.
 A grip ensnares these body curves
to keep me still and shut.

My feet fell firm when they
pulled me here, to his web of words
 I’m caught
A child to his will, 
content and not
What can move me now?

I bow my golden hair and face
to this mindless taste I can’t erase
  which arrests me here like stone.
 And my body creaks a sulky song,
to beckon his arrival.

 And his arms are warm in form and fact
cloaked stark in russet skin.
 His hands don’t doubt, there’s space on me
And like doors they settle in,
Clawing at survival

Those brilliant eyes stay 
 To terrify and mask the cracks
 and make me small again.
I am afraid, but I stop all the same
By palms that press me to dust and away.

What can move me now?

I am taken and tossed by this fractured smile, 
Captured awhile and my breath is spent
And my blood, a flood, shifting hotly now
Is a sport for the man
and a day, unplanned.

I am stuck again here
To wide eyed stares and purple chairs, 
To the scratch of carpets and 
Pattering fingertips
To my lonely skin 
and finally, to him
with his kiss, an intimate lie

What can move me now?