Putting Your Socks On

by Sari Krosinsky

You apologize every time for the necessity
as I kneel between your knees. I don’t apologize
for staring into your crotch as you roll the first sock,
though I feel the guilt of wanting to suck your cock
(and give you the trouble of getting your pants on
again), of wanting it now, when sex
is anything you can call “academic.”

I take the sock from your hand
and push it onto your foot, flinch
when it catches your heel, afraid
I’m hurting you. You take the cuff
from me and pull it up, impatient
to resign the role of invalid you’ve
played a few months, I for years.

No, I don’t want to need you injured
to balance my dependence. I want
to be near you, to dip between
your thighs, to touch your feet.


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return to issue 6: march, 2018