let me write, for a moment,
about your body.

i. you are not thin.

not round like v., or heidi, or margaret,
but thicker than i am used to.
listen:
i find such comfort in the weight of you.
your hips press me deeply into my own spine,
into the mattress, into the floor.
i buckle almost, under the sandbags of your breasts.

but this is incorrect-
'sandbag' implies rough burlap and flecked stone,
stageropes, anticipation, war, tense silence.
it can not denote the pillowsoft weight
of flesh,
the bonecolored skin,
the tiny hair follicles, where
the sweat && dirt of the day
collects.

ii. you are not short.

not towering, like evan, or elizabeth, or levi.
but taller than i am used to.
watch:
the length of your body
from your cheek
to your ankle
(where i will stop)
is comprised of miles and miles.

the walk is lovely-
i will never grow weary.

07/21/2005

Posted on 07/22/2005
Copyright © 2024 Brynn Dizack