Latency Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

White and sticky
I let it dry on the inside of my wrist.
It was years before I knew
what else was white and sticky.
But not before I knew love.

Slouched in my chair
trapped in First Grade
I hid from our teacher,
day dreaming of Dickie Jamieson,
the cub master's son.

I twisted the rounded top
and squeezed the bottle
'til it squirted warm, creamy glue.
I waited for it to dry on my hand
to peel off in one piece.

You are on my wrist.
I'll wait for you to dry.
Sleepy now in your arms
I recall Dickie Jamieson
And I know love.