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below the smoke

by Angela Thomas

i dip my hair in liquid henna. the delivery guy
says that it looks green. i hope that the final
color catches the light and dances around my collar
bone. stark white next to rich chocolate. your hand.

the collar bone that you ran your hand along last night.
after your sargent saw us walking along greenwich street,
arm in arm. the bar with light and dark lager. my arm
around your waist. i taste the dark lager on your lips.

my number is in your moleskin notebook. and i'm sitting
around on a sunday in my purple silk two-piece pajama,
my phone steady blinking, a little green lcd flashing.
like the light on your badge. now, my hair looks rich

and full. the color a deep, dark mahogany. the scent
of coffee and tobacco. honey, your lips are on my mind.

10/05/2008

Posted on 10/06/2008
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas

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