Poetry by Siobhan Jean-Charles
– Constitution Ave. NW, Washington, DC 20565
Upstairs wander for hours as you lean
into every frame, examine brushstrokes,
limbs in motion, skirt folds peeling
through air like a clementine. Gently, not
to disturb the artwork. I walk
ahead to let you look
at me, your eyes soft like the press
of your palm against
my waist, urgent and gentle.
A touch that knows it must pull
away sometime, that cannot stay.
Downstairs, we stargaze abstract
constellations and you talk
about lavender mists. Tell them to open
the gelato bar, so I can taste
how it melts on your tongue and forget
I don’t like Pollock unless
his name is on your lips.
