Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Mimi-Mona Poetry: You

Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved

The way your open shirt blew
up against my bared breasts
hinted a breeze was present.
Or, did the blue denim cling?
Shelves of books held hands
with the table placed
prominently before the
open window, the flapping sheers.

Was it hot that afternoon
in my bedroom decorated
with discarded clothing?
Covers shoved to the floor
at the end of the bed
and our sweat-glistening,
sated bodies sharing moans
would lead one to believe so.

Your body under mine,
I stared down into your eyes
as if peering into a well
or a pool searching
beyond my own reflection
for something else,
something my outstretched
arm sought— you.

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