your arms feel so good,
don’t they? i watch them
swing and move, raise when your hand
touches the top of your head,
searching. i watch them twist
as they stretch up, pulling your ribcage
in a way that should probably look delicate
but doesn’t. no.
i watch them lift when i crawl
up next to you in bed,
push myself up close in the
spot you’ve made
your arms, they made this spot, this spot
for me and
it is mine.
i watched them, they raised and here
curled against your body and you
tell me that it feels nice,
and i am thinking of your arms,
this space, that crawl
to meet you,
your heartbeat on mine,
and what a mistake this is that
you have made.
Leigh Vandebogart (above) lives in
Brooklyn and teaches special education
at a middle school in Queens. She's had
poems published in Other: ______, an
Albany poetry journal.