Feast

Ok. So this came out of a poetry assignment (I’m not sure who it came out of, surely not me????) where we had to finish off a bunch of fragments with a metaphor and then pick two and write poems from them. The fragment for this was “I traced my finger down your backbone, ridged like….”

I despise the last line of this one, cuz it’s so frikkin cliche, but it was the best I could come up with! eheh.

And. I submitted it to the journal to see if it gets published. 🙂

Speaking of poetry, I just sat in a room and read thru poetry and fiction/non-fiction for like, 2 and a half hours! Oi vey. And I’m not even halfway thru! EEEK. 🙂 But it’s fun. So. I don’t mind. And Yes, I know. I should’ve spent the time studying for my exam on monday. But…but I made a committment, and I chose not to break it.

Feast

I traced my finger down your backbone,
ridged like the smell of sauerkraut on New Years.
Eyes transfixed on 33 vertebrae, standing out
like so many lumps of mashed potatoes,
sweat puddled in your lumbar curve like gravy.

I watched as your chicken bone hips twitched,
tense and giddy from my tickling digits,
as you shifted to your side, breasts rolling
across your chest, settling like the plop of
congealed cranberry sauce dropping from its can.

I couldnt help but smile at the freckles sprinkled
on your shoulders like pepper and cinnamon,
or at the strawberry-rhubarb flush of your cheeks.
When your laugh bubbled out like champagne,
I knew my soul would never know famine again.

1.31.05/12.25pm
———-
Oh, here’s the other poem that came out of the assignment, from “Her fingers, delicate as….”

Her fingers, delicate as
strings on a violin,
entwine in mine.
Untangling, my thumb
brushes the soft underside
of her wrist, the angry
red spiderweb.

She flinches,
secrets discovered.
Silence,
looking down into
her dove gray orbs,
tears rolling onto our hands.

Hers, fear.
Mine, experience.
1.31.05/12.45pm