soooooo casual

scotia hille

Yes, I am free Sunday

to walk around the market

in our coats and scarves

and let your thumb 

thumb-wrestle mine into place

within your fist.

I’m also free Saturday

or I could be– the truth is

that since last week I have 

rarely stopped thinking 

about folding myself 

into your hands again and 

Tuesday night was merely

respite, just momentary relief 

and how sweet it was, but 

so fleeting. Oh, 

forgive me but I had 

forgotten how nice it is to 

have someone cup my elbows 

like that, to traipse fingers 

across those ridges between 

my shoulders where my

earthly body meets 

my cosmic mind. 

I thought I had remembered 

(I yearned, I pined), I was 

doing just fine without,

but I was unprepared 

and I am now finding it

difficult to be reasonable

and I want you to know

that I like you just as much 

on flat feet and I can tell

you are the sort of guy who 

wears too-small beanies in the 

winter with the ears peeking 

out, and the truth is I think

I want to be there to see it, I 

want to unfreeze your 

earlobes with the tips of my 

fingers, maybe even Sunday, 

after the market. I don’t 

think it will be that 

cold tomorrow but I could

make time if you want, there’s 

some things I could cancel,

like the hour I blocked 

off around midday

to replay what you said 

about my freckles. The

truth is if you asked 

me to come over tonight, the

slightest summon,

I would leave right now

and walk so slowly, 

two millimeters a minute,

arrive barely after 

dinnertime, so you’d 

think I hadn’t 

the time of day. 

In fact, I am 

increasingly worried

that since you kissed

me goodbye last week

and shut your door so

gently behind me,

I have only ever 

been doing just that: 

walking slowly back 

to your place,

in every direction,

stopping at school 

and job interviews

and the grocery store 

on the way– I’m so 

terribly busy, any 

fool would mistake me 

for living– but the truth

is I am a being on a 

singular mission these 

days, and the mission is 

closing my eyes and 

opening them 

on Sunday.

Scotia is a writer and activist from Massachusetts. She is currently a masters student of urban climate change policy in Paris, France, a discipline that informs and is informed by her poetry. She is an avid reader and aspiring creator of work that draws from gentle and loving presents to envision a bold, safe, and just future for her generation.

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