A Dance Or Two

We
almost made
it,
but the
road
only
took us
so
far;
like the
time
we
shouted at
the
stars
to
raise their
eyebrows
to
the sun.
Or,
like the
time
you
darted past
light,
as she
was
too distracted
with
the
ins and
outs
of Roy
G.
Biv.

If
you didn’t
know,
we’re
dancing
with
no plans
of
stopping.
I’m
here
holding
hands
with Ms.
Joy
herself.

We’re
dancing
and
no one needs
to
stop
what
they’re doing
to
watch.

M.C. Davis

Fingerprints

See,
I
want
to
feel
your
fingerprints
on
my
skin,
dictating
directions
this
way
and
that.
I
want
them
show
up
and caress
those
laugh lines
where
a
smile
is rarely
seen. I want
them
to
glaze
parts
of my
lips
no
one
has ever
mapped
out.

Finally,
I want
your
fingerprints
to
leave
behind
the memories
of
what
we
just did,
and
what
we’re gonna
do
in 2.5
seconds.

I’m all
yours
but
your
fingerprints
just
may
take
the cake.

M.C. Davis

The Same Courtesy

Let’s pretend we’re not friends.

Let’s start at the beginning and make room for a few insults, death threats even. Let’s shower the world around us with faults, swear words, and of course, a few lines of, “You ain’t shit” just for the sake of color-coding our fist fights from yellow, black, then something in the shade of blue.

Let’s dance around the room with boxing gloves, and have the walls bend and fold in sideways from our gut punches and blows to the chest, face, and throat. And if we still can’t seem to get it right, let’s get mighty Thor involved and the looseness of his hammer, so he’ll take a day or two to teach us how to use ours.

Finally, when the dirt has been thrown into more dirt, let’s find out what true love is and divorce the days, weeks, and years it has taken us to finally come to such blows. Let us walk back to the early days of war, and let that tooth become a victim for that eye like Abraham and those golden days spoke of. I’m just trying to make war with words; but instead of letters, let’s try a few daggers since we have more than 26 of them.

See, I’m in love with the idea of how much love we can invent together. I’m also in love with how much pain we can let go. However, on any given day, I’m embracing both–like a poet does– because they seem to always extend me the same courtesy whenever those doubts begin to creep their fingers down my trousers.

Especially without my permission.

embrace.

M.C. Davis