Poem Posted on the Ship’s Door

1. Pull.

Magnets rattle loose in his blood,
radar locked when he crosses her path.
Particles charged with aches he cannot identify or locate,
maverick monkey-stars set adrift from their orbit.

2. Watch your step.

Collide.
He watches her back,
her skin sliding down her skirt,
cotton so careless, flesh loose in the breeze,
lifts above her knees as she ascend the stairs,
imagines she is climbing him.

3. Mind your head.

Nothing intelligent about falling in love.
Nature lays wicked landmines
no time clock, tick of the unexpected, change of the watch
star-shot possibilities, phrases disrupted.
Blindsided.

4. Deck slippery when wet.

Untidiness pools beneath her hips.
His gaze slides around the southern curve
his hand has mapped in dreams.

5. Beware of strong winds.

Unseen buffets from the east, pressure rising.
He imagines kissing her,
the gale, the lull.

~ dee Hobsbawn-Smith

dee Hobsbawn-Smith is a chef, poet, author, educator and advocate based in Calgary, where she is president of Slow Food Calgary. She is a three-time alumna of The Sage Hill Writing Experience in Lumsden, SK. She writes food, fiction and poetry when she isn’t cooking or painting.

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