Tinkering with stenographer reporting
I feel her hands snag my jacket, snapping shut, tight as aching steel. My elbow, no longer my own, jerks forward. My collar's caught. I feel her turn, snuggling her hips against my thighs. Her 5'3'' coils, twisting my shoulders. Her arms, rotating, snapping, pull me into weightlessness. I mount her hip and plummet, as she smiles.
Ippon
In Judo, an ippon literally means "one point" and wins the match. An ipponis awarded for (a) a throw that lands the opponent largely on their back in a controlled manner with speed and force; (b) for a mat hold of sufficient duration (twenty five seconds); or (c) for opponent submission.
We dance. For three minutes at a time we shuffle across the linoleum fifteen years my senior. Two inches of stiff white foam separate our toes and the cracking tiles. Your hands catch my jacket. The sweating cotton squeaks in your thin fingers. I follow your lead in this, our waltz, our arms twisting, hands snarling for the upper hand. Your finger sink, driving high into my shoulder. My right lapel creases against the stone of your left palm. I feel as you torque yours hips, pressing them into my thighs. My right lapel folds under my left arm
as i ride your hip, lost in weightlessness.
No comments:
Post a Comment