Saved by a Silent Bell

I confessed my self-importance

She ruffles up my hair
With one hand
As if to massage my head
While sizing up my skull
I tilt toward her
To save my neck
And shorten the time
Of the intruding palm and fingers
And now it is the turn of my face.

Her forefinger traces my hairline
Then the bridge of my nose
To rest on my lips.
I am expecting
What I don’t know
Maybe a warm kiss
Or a cold tap
Or even nothing
Or just a pause
Of the finger’s slow race.

But not the question:
Who’s the most important person
in your life right now?
Oh, dear!
I am
Something snaps
And goes very quiet.
The finger stops,
Hesitates
And lifts itself.
I wait,
Not sure which fuse we lost.
Eyes firmly shut,
But I feel hers
Drilling poker holes on my face.
I try to breathe easy.

She’s considering how to deal —
I imagine what is coming;
The claws are out
Then pulled back in.
That was close…

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