by Livia Ching
(11/28/07)
The Delicate Phalanges of His Feet
I lift the covers just above his toes and...they skitter away into the blanket-y warm depths of our shared bed. After a few seconds, they come peeking out again to say hello. And when I pay attention to them then, they go into hiding right away, as soon as I turn my head.
Tonight on the sleek black couch, one of his two long dancer's feet is propped demurely and ditzy-ly on my leg, while the other sits obediently behind my back (as if this were the most natural pose in the world).
His long, well-formed phalanges flex up and down at random. I stroke the soft hair on his two big toes, cooing to all ten piggies as if they were my pets.
Prairie Oysters
Soft hairs grow in sunshine tendrils from soft skin. A pouch tinted red. They are the jujubes of my morning and my night. Hidden away, they are safe from touch and admiration. But when revealed, they are my true happiness and delight.
A Beautiful Derriere
So taut. So round. May they be the way they are today until the day I die. I brush my cheek against those furry ones when he steps into the shower.
The bottom curve of his glutious lifts up perfectly arched as if by magic. He tells me the maximus was trained from years of cycling. To be graced each morning and night, with the sight of such round buttocks is one of the best blessings I am most grateful for in this lifetime. As these globular mounds of flesh sashay back and forth from the living room to the other rooms, I sigh as if I'm in heaven and give thanks to the gods who gave him such a fine ass.
The Poet's Companion - by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux