It was Charlie that half swallowed my arm at 6

That's what I remember, the offering, the taking

The dance between love and violence

If you unzip your ribcage low enough

You can call this Trust

Hurting those close to us is inevitable

And if I love you, I am sorry.

I am drawn to large creatures,

We walk upstairs and I don't mention it

You have to let the horse lead

Thank you Charlie, my balance is abysmal

And I don't know how to ride a fucking horse

So I walk along side it, whispering to passers-by

He didn't mean it, He didn't mean it

Now it is Charlie seizing my leg at night, or on the coach when I knew we should have taken my truck, split the drive,

It is Charlie's big flat teeth biting like a tightened screw into the rod steel along the back of my thigh

It is Charlie's name in my mouth as I bark that line from the everyman's common book of prayer -

God Damn it!

I don't know what to say about this feeling.

Oak Ayling (she/her) is a Pushcart Prize nominated poet and semi-professional human. Her debut pamphlet 'With Love from the Curator' from Indigo Dreams Publishing is out now and her forthcoming collection "Overflow" is due for release with Shoal of Starlings Press 2022. Her other works can be found in various anthologies and literary magazines. She also tweets and posts little squares @oakayling