For Donovan by Sarah O’Brien
For Donovan
by Sarah O’Brien
Your pants are made from the softest fabric.
You challenge me to a game of chess.
“You didn’t use your Queen enough,” you say
after winning, and I soak in this metaphor.
I was too focused on someone else’s King.
I overlooked mine—left you exposed.
Your wounds from her violence linger,
and you mistrust even me.
I ask my angels for a deeper patience.
I resist the tendencies of Past Sarah,
fearful of abandonment and change.
In a dream, we convene and toast disaster.
I press my lips gently against your arm.
You recoil at some of my touches, after her.
Sorrowful pavement, I rebuild our road.
I invite you over for a home-cooked meal.