Doting

You have such perfect skin
she’d always whisper
raking her fingers across my cheek
stopping on the little black stamp
above my lips

Don’t let no one ever
ruin it.
Then she’d slink away
from the soothing depths of my room,
her doting smile swiped
replaced by a black and blue stain.

Eleven years later I sit between the legs of my soul
his arms encircling my shoulders, setting my rhythm
that doting smile I’ve almost forgotten
now basking behind me, before me.
I feel like a  missile disarmed, retracted from burning borders

You have such perfect skin
he’d say with such sincerity
as if he could crawl inside it and be home
Don’t let them ruin it.

Rebecca Turner

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One Response to “Doting”

  1. Kaitlin Says:

    This poem is strong because of how intriguing it is. I love the mystery.
    Add some commas at the ends of lines so that run-ons don’t throw off the rhythm. I like your use of “stamp,” but I think using it twice weakens the word. Perhaps use “stain,” “mark,” “blemish,” “blot,” etc., to describe the bruise. Also, there is a typo in the second line of the third stanza.


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