Holes

You found me like this.
I was bawdy, then blustery.
You did that thing with your eyebrows,
and I thought, I thought:
If he loves me, I will continue to live.

You looked at my hands.
You noticed my fingers and I clenched my fists fast,
drew them behind my back.
No one, no one can look like they remembered
where they left something on me.

I have behaved badly for so long I barely consider the alternatives.
I see you watching me, seeking a way in.
A hole to pry, a string to unravel, a way to gather some momentum.
But I am clever. I move the holes around,
unsure where they will go or what will open next.

But I expect you to stay here. To stay poised.
To be ready for a moment when I might tire
of the work it takes to keep moving.