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The Great Unhook
The act now spent,
we are left
just one skin on top
of the other skin.
Hips pull and rotate up;
arms lift us out
to unhook.
Our two parts tumbled
always downhill.
Joined in heat and locked up
in the wet mess.
In tandem, now a swift pull
lulls to the slow slide out.
Oh, severed twin of mine
I miss how we fell as one,
against the carpet on my floor,
as if we would never
unhook.
Christine Ottoni is a twentysomething writer based out of Toronto Ontario. As a recent graduate of the University of Toronto, she is relishing her quarter life crisis.
Email: Christine Ottoni
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