By Hannah Golden
Sometimes you slow dance with your best friend.
Sometimes your cheek brushes red again his stubble
You have that feeling you love that feeling you hate.
Some nights the heat comes on by itself.
You don’t realize until you bolt awake in your empty apartment
Throw the down comforter off your sweat-slicked body
Catch a chill from the saltwater drying on your skin.
You wonder whether to blame the anxious dreams
or the furnace in the walls
or the fire in your belly.
A frog in a pot of water
You didn’t realize someone had lit the flame underneath you
Until the water started to boil.
Slow dancing with your best friend
Cheek to feverish cheek
Left foot, right foot
one step back,
one step forward.
After Jon Sands
Poetry: Frog in Boiling Water
March 26, 2015
(Courtesy Flickr user jronaldlee/via Creative Commons)
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