the first time you undressed me you peeled me like a small cold
girl who had fallen in the snow your hands were gentle and soft
you stroked me like a chickadee who had tumbled from a nest
when I reached out and placed my hand on your ribs slid it up
over the bones I felt your heart race strong and hard felt how
that was for me because of me I splayed my hand my fingers
on your white skin pressed gently then more firmly until my
handprint was embedded red in your white chest my bones
impressed upon your skin it didn't fade until after our
breathing slowed your heartbeat slowed
sometimes I fell asleep with head pressed to your chest your
long arms wrapped around me once and a half listening to your
heart like a puppy to an alarm clock wrapped in a towel your
breath echoing those steady true thumps with soft puffs of air
blowing wisps of hair across my cheek in a matching steady beat
how like me to look for symbolism to ruin the meaning that
did exist making it more than it was when in a smaller world
it might have been acceptable trust me to make a metaphor
from a simple physical response
Copyright © 2003, Leslie Greentree
