holding his hand

August 26, 2019

On the bus back, the couples leaned their heads on each other in different ways, and C’s shoulder was bony. Soon my head was somewhere between his stomach and lap, and I drowsed for twenty minutes, holding his hand, my head pressed hard into his abdomen. I felt the flesh under there – all that skin and sinew of a person who let me do these things to him now. After my nap I sat up and whispered fast, I’m going to bite your face, but I didn’t. I think no one heard. I thought, I could write that down. Or I just thought, I have someone I could bite their face; then, I have someone whose face I could bite, all in that voice in my head that means I might write it down.

Joanna Penn Cooper
The Itinerant Girl’s Guide to Self-Hypnosis