Encounter by: Nicole Barton

“What is your name?”
A polite inquiry, yet
It shies away, coy
As a tendril set girly.

A center of gravity in its eyes-
That deeply persist into mine,
So steady that I trust for just
A frayed moment.

Enough to ask again,
“Give me your name?”
And it sets to rocking,
Side to side to side.
I’ve kindled a simmering something.

It’s tense in its layers.
I almost see too much when
It squirms just once.

The ripening of raw tenacity.

Desperately, “Your name?”
Its spit hits
My cringed lids.