Almanac Poetry: ‘Finding Me’ – Robyn Black


finding me


I stand at the angle best seen by my mirror

strain to catch the lean lines of form


but they have been consumed, swallowed

by the rest of my body, swelled to enormous


ambushed, I press myself into the dusk

try to disappear into the dark, but I am bulk.


He touches with light tongue, insistent

flicks his way through the flesh,


skin whispers on skin, tracing slick promise

on a body that cannot remember itself.




I once fitted neat, side-saddle on the bar

of my boy’s bicycle, his lithe form


curved protectively at my back, his breath

fluttered hotly, sighing sweet promise


we flew through warm summer night

on strong legs and teenaged eros



now his mouth challenges and I feel

he has coloured outside the lines.



©Robyn Black


No Straight Lines can be purchased Here.



More poetry from Robyn can be read Here.



More poetry from Almanac Poetry can be read HERE


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