The sappy air stuck to my skin like melted sugar

I looked down and spotted a ladybug restful upon me
She tucked in her wings and began to explore a new horizon of olive tanned skin- a remnant of the friendly banter between skin and the days honeyed light

Where was she headed?
A playful breeze danced with the Spanish moss draped from the trees
She clutched the unshaven hairs on my thighs like children do when hanging from monkey bars

Love is, cupping my hands around her, blocking the force that makes my hair stick to my lips

Some of the times, I was spilling over the brim with love, giddiness, or when giggles bubbled through my lips.

When you asked me if you could take me to Chicago. Yes. Over and over again.

We rescued a dog on Rutledge Ave. Cotton was his name.

This may be premature. From how I feel about you right now,
I'd travel around the world with you, giggling, dancing, so much kissing, splitting desserts
And I really hope it happens in my life.
Slipping into the corners of Chicago, where the curve of your face feels familiar to those around you, learning about you. There's so much I want to know.

I'll think of you anytime I hear the word "Chicago," and a smirk will climb from the corner of my lips.

This time with you has felt like the equivalent of a warm blanket pulled out of the dryer, wrapped around my cheeks.

I can assure you I haven't felt unsure about you.

I like the freckles on the bridge of your nose; some say freckles are kisses from angels. Lucky you

When we danced cheek to cheek in my room, you said, "I've never danced cheek to cheek with anyone before."

When you told me how lucky you felt that you got to meet me, I cried. You kept taking fake to-go orders from McDonald's, and they all got delivered as kisses on my cheeks.

The day after you left, I was talking to the mailman, and I was so upset. He told me a story of when he was 26, living in Hawaii, and this girl at the time, now his current wife, came to visit him. For two weeks, they traveled the island together, and when she left, he lay on the beach and watched her plane take off back to Providence. He said, "So I know how you feel. I cried like a baby, and it's ok to miss someone, and it's ok to feel sad." I smiled and cried some more.

You're in Michigan, getting ready for your brother's wedding, and today I walked past a couple sitting on a bench at Colonial Lake, pressed against each other, they had no interest in the world around them. That feeling felt so foreign to me for months, until I met you.

It's so early and premature, but I believe in every lifetime, I'd want this person to be mine.

Thank you, with every ounce of love I have within me, wrung out and twisted through

Honeybee, honeybee
Tender in the world blue
She’d allow hummingbirds to sip sugar from the pits of her veins

They’d nest in the soft waves of her long dark hair, that sticks to her lips when the wind blows

An authentic woman
Bare faced, beautiful plain skin
Varicose veins popped on her softened cheeks
Roman nose, dark features
Promenade eyebrows
And dimples that dance when she smiles

Her body is similar to the one’s crafted from marble in Italy
Hippier than most, our mom would say
When she tries on a cream silk dress cradles her waist

He lay, slumber, neck perched against the wooden desk covered in a sage silky cloth. Teeth rested against his bottom lips. Through the gap between his teeth is a low-pitched breathing, like a tea kettle finishing its brew in the rhythm of the rise and fall of his stomach. While his thick eyebrows resemble their origin contradicting to the bristly stubble on his head, parading his full cheeks that melt into his quivering chin. His thighs represent the one’s of his mothers with natural aging much to evident for such a young child. His stomach exhibited its roundness, open to the still air.

Let Us Go

At great risk we go
through certain half deserted
streets.  The lights burn holes
in my contemplations.  The spine
of poetry is fallen and lies
spattered on the ground

Go with me. The vocabulary
inspired by the sea air will
carve runes in the granite.

We travel light. Our skin, like
canvas ingrained with words,
bleeds.

We drop to our knees in
silent supplication.  Sounds
paint where rhyme
leaves
trails.

There is no tomorrow.  


Caroline Shank

I laughed more tonight, than I have in awhile
Wholesome friends
And sweet,
Sweet laughter