Not the Season for Snow

by Lacy D Phillips

Tonight, the first hot sleep of the young summer,
I keep the unbidden remembrance of awkard kisses
hidden on the cool underside of my pillow.
The small, fleshy bits of memory
are what I find most delicious -
the muscles of his back arranged
like snow drifted into smooth peaks
on either side of his spine.


Posted on 05/07/2007
Copyright © 2022 Lacy D Phillips

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