Ten-Minute Princess
She brushes against me
And I can already taste the mistakes
I call her my little opera
I linger on her photos too long
I want to take her where the thunder crashes
Shake the numbness from my fingers
I can’t pretend anything
She’s in the minutes before I wake up
She’s just a baby
Just an egg
I want to touch her like an accordion
What could I not confess?
What could I write along her pantyline?
What could I bar the door with?
I hold back kisses as quick as camera clicks
Words that mean beautiful
Gifts I can’t hide
My little opera
My ten-minute princess
The chair is slid out for you
The door ajar
The button open
The curtain closed
The lack of eyes
The hurried names
The pilot and the passenger
Teddy Bryan lives in Philadelphia, PA.