even
the beads of your sweat
warp
from the intense gravity
of those dense but sensuous orbs,
making a gentle detour
like a river,
before flowing into the whorl
of your beautifully chiseled navel

© 2022

Have you been to the City of Eternal Sunshine's
navel academy?

Belly buttons in the sun, sparkling and shimmering:
crescent moons like deep wells dug by
the callus hands of Woodspur's
first settlers.

They belong to desert roses, Coachella girls,
where wearing a bikini is not a sin, but a means of survival.

Clothed in eensy triangles, they've walked
with farm workers, reveled with festivals,
and prized the glory of Pueblo Viejo.

One can now better understand how this place
was nearly called Land of the Little Shells.