Points of Attraction
by Laura LeHew
in memory of Paul O. Williams
it didn't matter
people thought you were his daughter
that you always exclaimed we're "just friends"
it didn't matter so long as
your feet were bound tight
in 4" leather high heels
as you stood and stood
your feet throbbing to be released
it didn't matter so long as at the end of the night he could
walk you to your apartment could
grasp your calf
slip your shoes off
at at time—strong
into your skin his thumb deeper
into the points of your soul
Laura LeHew loves zombies, Dexter, and Anne Carson [in a purely platonic-poetic way]; she is hoping for a non-CGI comeback of Werewolves; she has one husband, seven cats [Tessa, Mr. Socks, Baby, and Dorian (yes he is grey), and the Army of Darkness (Raven, Shadow and Smoke)]; she never sleeps. Laura is the editor of Uttered Chaos.
This poem originally appeared in issue 1.