I would love to
pull a hat off my head
and use my dirty forearm
to wipe away a hard
shine. To sit with legs
wide, lean over a plate, shovel
food, and smile.
I’d love to hunch
my shoulders and swing my hand into
a tight-gripped
handshake with another man, rattle
peanuts in my fist, pop
them in my mouth and drink a long,
cold drink of beer.
You know I’d love that heavy
arm hanging out the window feel. The sun
turning it golden or red all the way up
to my white t-shirt stretched tight
on muscles I’ve been carrying since
testosterone filled me
with all kinds of desires
I haven’t laid down.
Would love my other arm
on the wheel, fingers tapping
a little beat to honky-tonk or something
real heavy in an old truck. I’d love
my lip pulled tight
with a dip and a little lady
squeezed up against
my thighs, her hand
there or her pretty head, on a neck
I could break
if I wanted to, lying on
my shoulder. And I’m a sweetheart
for not ever grabbing her
that way because she lives
all the time knowing
I could.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 1.
Stacy Boe Miller is a prose writer and a poet. Her work can be found in The Sun, Copper Nickel, Mid-American Review, Bellingham Review, Terrain.org where she recently won the Editor’s Prize in Poetry, and other journals. Her poetry manuscript, Answer With Hunger, was a finalist for the Blue Lynx Prize for Poetry with Lynx House Press, The Wheeler Prize with The Journal, and the St. Lawrence Poetry Prize with Black Lawrence Press.
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