I
Eventually, you start to have dreams
about the time you moved past her
in the bathroom and the back
of your hand happened to brush
her pubic hair and you both
noticed the other noticing
and the room warmed a little.
II
Sometimes you want to offer up
praise to the bodies of women.
YouÂd sing about the neck
where it curves up under the base
of the ear. YouÂd exalt collar bones
and toes and the skin visible
underneath the eyebrow. YouÂd extol
the shape of the towel sheÂs wrapped
herself in and the wet, wrinkled fingers.
YouÂd sing it to the skies
and imagine Aphrodite kissing
you back with ancient gratitude.
III
Your body is an engine on
an iron stilt, running...
running....
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Monday, March 27, 2006
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March
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- This is not a poem (2)
- Evidence
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2 comments:
Yes, and the engine needs a source of STEAM!! Love this!
you can definitely feel the intensity in this. great descriptions. i loved the "praise" section
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