LESYA BAZYLEWICZ


Goodbye

His panda bear arms had once embraced my curves
like a sun’s warm hug after emerging from the shade. 
--
Your Spanish accent tip-toed up my spine
like a ringed man coming home at three a.m.
collar soiled in plum lipstick;

You whispered
“be weightless with me.”
--
Your frigid python arms smother my now jagged edges—
devious hands squeezing me like a Capri Sun pouch
until I’m pretty and flat.

Your icy palms sneak around to mask my eyes,
a blindfold pulled tight as you spin me around three times.
Before I know it, I dizzily swing the bat you shoved in my hand.

Two of your fingers part for a second
revealing a black and white blob, flying far into the distance.

Goodbye.