Poems

Her body as a mirror

she closes her eyes
and opens his fingers,
feels the humps of his knuckles,
and how far in they must go.

there is this place
a woman knows --

it's dark, but she can tell him
how to find her,
and when he's getting close.

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Old spice

this has to count for something.
even your armpits turn me on.

can you imagine?
a poem that stalks your smell.

©2005 by Nicole Poirier

                                                                                                                                                                                               

Reader Comments

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Nicole Poirier is an emerging writer, working on her first book of poetry. Typically eccentric, she adores cats, driftwood, broken hearts, and of course, her jar of wind.