“A Man Lies at my Feet” by Jean Churchill

This poem is part of CavanKerry’s series for National Poetry Month.  Every day in April, we post a poem from our community of writers.

A Man Lies at my Feet
by Jean Churchill

A man lies at my feet
and a woman, and another over there.
I glide between bodies. Hovering,
Maybe to touch, where?
and what to say?

My hand on his inner thigh
likely to frighten him away,
self conscious, shy,
in tense predicament,
he has detached his shell.
He tries to move a ligament
under my professional spell;
My gaze investigates the body
of this person by my feet.
I know his muscles ache.
I swoop deep,
I touch above his calf to make
my point.

Talon, forceps or cradle.
Hazardous, the profile of my power
With which instructors earn their fees
the wide world over,
who presume, preside with an expertise
over beginners’ obedient bodies on a floor,
four fragile yielding limbs,
uncertain tendons, try to explore

We can disfigure with our reach—
We can wound far more
easily than teach