humming half the chorus

Say you want
to sit without conversation,
to read next to me, humming half the chorus and bridge
Of a song you excitedly showed me last night,
my hand on your knee,
the neighbor's music coming in through the window.

You want to lay in the garden
let the ants crawl over us
sinking into earth,
breeze pulling at loose shirts
your callused hands
ripping up grass, sprinkling it over my back.

I'm using up our time
afraid to run my fingers across
your shoulder blades,
nestle into the softest part of your neck
feel your chest rise in uneven bursts,

and I’ll blow away your eyelash
wishing
I was able to love you.

RJ Robertson-DeGraaff is a young transgender author and student at Western Michigan University. His work has been published in multiple collections both online and in print with GNU Journal, Seven Circle Press, Atomic Flyswatter, and Flexible Press. He received a Gwen Frostic Creative Writing Award for Fiction in 2020.