12 July 2005 | Vol. 5, No. 2

Because I Wanted

by KRISTINE LEJA

i

            A pack of birds flying south

Do you think their wings touch in flight?

                                            Desperate: a belonging of sorts

ii

Once I wore a lavender and black dress,

a fussy hemline that landed mid thigh

            I walked down a hallway,

arms stretched T-shaped, brushing fingers

against painted walls

the hallway ended, fingers

drawn limp,

            I stepping headlong

into a room, where people bumped

shoulders, clinked glasses, tipped toasts.

And all those hands, all that skin,

kisses brushing cheeks.

            I never once touched down, I kept out.

                                            a pressing against

iii

Return to a pointed

arrow headed south

                                            pushed

iv

That touch, that finger brush

            when we sat

knee to knee

            sipping coffee

                                            to make contact with

v

And penguins, leaping in torpedo form

            do not, indeed, mate for life