the only glow is from the monitor
as i carelessly pick at my toe nails,
my legs tangled in your office chair.
i am trying to write a poem about you.
trying to express, in mere words,
the masculine sensitivity i can smell
just before you lean in to kiss me.
a stubborn shiver leaves the word
on the precipice of my fingers.
i reach to write, abandoning my toes
when you swoop. the scent of your breath
and the soft pink of your lips take me
as you perch just below my left ear.
spin the chair around and the word is gone...
no others will taste you, your kiss;
but my poetry doesn't sell without your sex.
2 comments:
Katy, I am just in awe... I read it in your email, and I read it again now, and I am still out of words... What can I say? Your writing is just painfully beautiful. Enough.
oh, arch.
remember what i said about not needing to be published because i get all the attention i'd ever need here? thank you for making that as true a statement as any.
my ego is now |-----------------------this big-----------------------|
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