by Lakesha Jenkins

Who is this stranger?
This voice on the phone I close my eyes a
nd imagine to be comforting me in strong burnt bronze arms
An imaginary friend that I have given the strength 
to materialize out of the mist of confusion and loneliness
A being not yet determined to be friend or foe
Who is this stranger?
This interloper of my private moments who magically 
seems to know what to say to inspire my trust albeit unknown still
A light which shines partially into my darkened existence 
yet does nothing to facilitate my escape into sun filled skies
Who is this stranger?
This promiser of things he is unable to provide; 
could it be I am giving in to the fantasy of his lies
A figment manifested from the unconscious pool of need 
buried once deeply now beginning to ascend 
Who is this stranger?
My hands trail a path from my heart’s beat 
to the quaking of my stomach as wants begin to mingle with my body’s needs

This king of well proportioned masculinity transporting me 
to a time before time where I would be queen and he undoubtedly was mine
Who is this stranger?
That makes me think of a future filled with laughter 
and longevity we would share between us
Nothing has he to offer me expect himself unencumbered – 
but is my baggage more than enough to destroy what could be
Who is this stranger?
And what could he want with me?

Stranger by Lakesha Jenkins

© Copyright 2007. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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