I used to steal into the steam
while she was showering,
slither like a jungle snake
across the floor to silently
spy on her flesh shedding
rain. I couldn’t refrain;
I’d seize her ankles and yell
PSYCHO!
Smash! Went her warm calm;
she’d freak and scream and
be angry for an hour and
not let me touch her
for at least four more.
We’ve mellowed since then.
I don’t bother slithering across
the floor anymore and before
I enter I say, Here comes the psycho.
She replies, Close the door, Psycho,
you’re letting in the cold.
And then I gently
seize her ankles.
Copyright. Allan Lake.
Allan Lake, a stray from Saskatchewn, now writes poetry in Melbourne, Australia.
His latest chapbook, ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press, 2020.
