My Captive
I stalked her petticoats like a caged shrimp,
noticed when she shaved her legs,
when her skirt was an inch shorter,
when she wore two different white socks,
traced the raisin shaped scar on her knee.
A thread dangled from her hem,
a tease, a mystery that would unlock
the other side of the world.
I imagined what would happen
if I pulled it.
Would she unravel?
Become a coccoon spinning toward me?
Could I use it to tie her to the tetherball pole?
She never noticed me once.
I could wrap that thread around my finger–
a reminder never to forgive her.
Poet Lore
Fall, 2016
Nominated by Poet Lore for a Pushcart Prize
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