On this occasion

I shore up

what good I have

to transmit you

and the masculinity necessary

to unbutton your chest.

 

No, never danced

a wall or swayed

your hips but do it

for me.

 

Yes, you’re my man

with your head on my lap

with the cold air on your nipples

with your mouth open.

 

Desire embarrasses us.

 

Diving down for sea grass

I say trying to explain

how it feels in the face

of a startling thing;

 

How when you come up for air

and wave

the clump in your hand

at the surface,

you’re both triumphant

and scared.

 

***

 

Matea Kulić‘s work (including poetry, essays and reviews) has been published in Poetry is Dead, Room, Demeter Press and The Capilano Review among others. She lives in Vancouver, BC on unceded Coast Salish Territories.