Kiss (rewind) Act three comes every night.
It’s (soft) fleeting, but my first in years.
Hands stroking my hips (nails chewed to the quick).
I’m not yours. Was I ever (the sort to become property?)?
The curtain should have parted us (forever).
Kiss (rewind) you are a boy. (Fool.) A child.
And still you do not see me, even when you’re
Looking straight into my eyes. Even when I ask (never aloud)
I would never be allowed to ask.
Kiss (rewind) take them back,
your hands that stink (of smoke at the finger tips)
and if you won’t (of course, you won’t. You’ve no idea what they’ve done), then
Look at me (pause)
Not because those (tiny italic) words tell (demand) you to
Or because there is no one louder to (steal) draw your (blurred) focus
Push your palm to my freckles (like a copy of them will smudge there)
Because I am soft (push over)
Kiss (rewind) to a time before you.
more by NOELLE CURRIE
photograph by Stuart Vivier