Phobia 2
#1
When I hold your hand, 
I sometimes, most times, 
imagine your fingers
in another girl’s mouth. 

My body is a shell. 

I, most times, 
imagine your hand gripping 
the breast of another; 
it looks like it’s about to burst. 
I imagine your hand bloody. 

My body is a broken shell. 

I imagine us dancing, the girl and I, 
side by side, made of the same parts. 
Can you tell us apart?

I remember your hand in my mouth--
It was too big and I looked ridiculous. 
It doesn’t matter;
you would remember me as her. 

My body is a drifting shell.
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#2
Thanks for the feedback. I haven't read Sappho, but I'll look at some of her poetry. And I don't think the poem is necessarily a love poem per se, but rather a fear one can have in love.

I actually revised the latter half this way:

"I imagine us dancing, the girl and I,
side by side, woman to woman,
I laugh, it’s fun, I can’t tell us apart.

I remember your hand in my mouth--
It was too big and I looked ridiculous.
It doesn’t matter;
you would remember it differently.

My body is a drifting shell,
floating head limbs feet underwater."
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#3
PT,

Know I'm coming in late here.  Anyway, I kind of prefer your pre-edit.  I guess after bloody breast, it followed on that even dismemberment (not literal of course) wasn't off the table, so "made of the same parts" seemed appropriate.'  I guess I shouldn't even be talking about a pre-edit, eh?  So save that idea for another poem.

I was drawn into the poem by the repetition and it kept me going to the end.  Good work.
“All persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.”  Kurt Vonnegut
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