Sing
Shannon E. Brewer
His words were on me, close as sweat and
somnolent against the beat of rapid, dark music
heavy as breath on my skin. How big
and alive I felt that night, hips slamming up
against the small space between dancers. I had
moved my hips so bravely there. But his breath
struck my ear like a hard wanting kiss,
wet, and his arm slithered round me slow. I moved
instinctively, crying a little, and afraid, when that
short ugly boy pressed into me - my friend Kat
yelling out, Come on Come on! I hunkered down
and stepped into night air like glass against my face,
free from the ugly sex and the boring boring booze.
Later I lay awake in the light of morning when my
lover asked me to sing to him. Why? I said.
Because you’re good at it.
I like it when you sing.
I like it when you sing.
Shannon E.
Brewer lives in South Bend, Indiana. Her poems have appeared in MotherVerse: A Journal of Contemporary
Motherhood and the National Catholic Reporter. She writes regularly
for regional publications, including Northern Indiana LAKES Magazine.
When not writing, she skips stones into Lake Michigan with her son Jacob.