Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2021
the skin of your fingers
are her fingers;
the tongue's apex
a xerox of her own tongue;
she dappled your cheek's curvature with vulpecula
and you appreciate, despite yourself,
this loving sense of detail.
forgive a master sculptor if she feels
entitled to a private moment with her own
aphrodite of knidos.
Brae
Written by
Brae  26
(26)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems