The warning was of “brief sensuality”
and we kept waiting for it to appear,
the threat of it growing more dramatic
than the violence of a gunshot wound,
the plot points leading toward it
rougher than the coarsest language
and my appetite to enjoy it
as plain (as revealing) as any nudity.
The sensuality seemed imminent
any time the proximity of bodies
narrowed within the confines
of a drawing room, or when glances
bounced back at meaningful angles.
When, finally, two secondary characters
kissed discreetly in the woods
behind the house, their limbs entwined
and the fading sun taking refuge
in her dark curls and the curve
of his back, I became conscious
that the side of my left leg was pressing
clandestinely against my beloved’s right.
My eyes saw everything, registered nothing.
I would give them as long as necessary.
Shane Schick is the founder of 360 Magazine, host of The Owned Media Observer podcast and a fashion blogger at Menswhere.ca. He lives in Toronto with his wife and three children. More: shaneschick.com/poetry. Twitter: @shaneschick