Coquette-A small collection of love poems
By Sara Cheesewright
Every time I’m in the passenger seat
and we take the highway,
I see the side of the roads
littered with mangled animals.
A raccoon with tire treads tattooed
across it’s back.
A deer slumped on the edge–where
the grass and the concrete kiss.
Bodies. Fuzzy furry animals
with snapped necks
and broken limbs
drying up with crusting blood.
I don’t mind hunters
I don’t mind eating meat.
As long as we part our lips
and whisper prayers of understanding.
But it is senseless,
how cars speed down the
and carry on,
of road, forgetting that strange
and quickly moving
For Dan, who lost his Brother
He is a solivagant.
One child of many who acts on his own.
He is a wanderer and solitude
is his first kiss and his favorite lover.
He doesn’t dance but he never drinks alone.
His friends are his friends but they must climb mountains
to stand in the downpour on a Sunday night and listen to a
He wanders in order to wear somberness without others
He drives, he walks, and he propels himself forward.
Without movement he cannot breath or think. He has lost
something entirely irreplaceable and his longing to return
to what isn’t there makes him wander further and further
until he is gone.
has stained teeth and mojito breath
against the pump redness of my lips
it stung quite nicely when he bit
my bottom lip.
The night around us,
His arms around me--
the fine lines of his beard
nuzzling my neck.
We were in the backseat,
his fingertips finding their way
His clothes shed, then mine.
Then me, faking it
just to see him smile
I pulled my jeans on,
bouncing around in the backseat
while he sped through
He eyed me through the mirror
watched me frown
as I dressed
and he said, "What? You don’t
want me parading you around naked?"
Trying to get me to smile.
In front of my house,
I hesitated to leave because
he seemed to smile
like telling stories.
He filled the space
when he caught sadness
in my eyes. He didn’t want me
to be unhappy.
He didn’t want me to feel in love.
I wanted to rest my head
on his shoulder and watch his
but it was almost 2 am
and we would expire soon.
He made sure to kiss me before I left.
And I left.
Sara Cheesewright is a writer with a BA in English from St. John's University. She has a passion for coffee, long novels, and philosophical conversations. She enjoys spending time with her friends and family, as well as reading and writing as often as she can.