Catches the Cringe
2005

At a place to be altered, a shrug
takes on a hard weight,
and a blush lacks the impact
of vomit.
He always catches the cringe when I
bat my eyes,
an impression of
drawn out nights
wrapped too tight in my look.
The price of being noticed,
another to see
the sore stuff.

A downward fit of something or other
extends like the soft
precision of fire.
He’ll thrust his will forward
to leave Doubt feeling
less clever,
and I’ll lick up what’s left
to prove
I had it covered.