My assignment was to read a short story by Grace Paley called “Wants.” Afterward, I was to write a poem or story in response to it. I was mulling it. Nothing came. It was about a love lost. Mine is not. It was a beautiful April day. The breeze was blowing warm air around and the flowers had pushed up from the ground. I found a comfy old wooden chair and thought of Paul..
My nose presses in against his back
Freckles sprinkled across a bisque sky
I rest there glad, so glad and think yet again
This broad back, is just like the blue kind
A vast play land of skin tempts my lips
Elbows feel ribs, fingertips rest against his love
Shucked colors change tones between us
Eyes glued to the bones moving beneath muscle,
It seems somehow magical to me, this canvas freed to nuzzle
Gliding over the textures of his skin, I think yet again this is finger heaven.