“Let’s be in love for just tonight,” you said,
When I had better things to do in red
High heels. Encircling your big bad bed
Like scouts around a campfire, ahead
A ring of muscles pressing us instead
Of sense, misplacing wits, shoes shed — — outspread:
My map, your body.
Folded up: my dread.
___
The featured image accompanying this poem, entitled ‘Let it Grow’, has been used with the permission of artist, Wednesday Morning.
I. I see a video of women cycling in short dresses talking of how not to flash. They wide-angled their legs, pull the back of
There were times when it seemed like all the beauty was sucked out of my life. This was one of them. It was cold and
I stood in my kitchen, hands slightly palsied as I poured myself a glass of water from the sink.
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