Once, one quite willing
body with a very slender
soul, kissed her.
She remembers the mouth's aim and opening,
the certain pressure of the lips,
the awareness of tongue.
Their mouths met equally,
their footing solid and sure.
Once.
The soul, slender as it was,
held tight, tighter than
was necessary, bleeding her
in its own
attempt to fatten up.
The kiss, just one, she remembers
fondly. The soul, she knows,
is still slender.
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six foot skinny
Writer to the Stars
Zyskandar Jaimot
Mary Ann Farley
thatdamnbob
Grannypower
Salon.com
Comments
"The soul, slender as it was,
held tight, tighter than
was necessary, bleeding her
in its own
attempt to fatten up."
In this we are women of like passions.
rated.
did I say "wow'?
Grif, the last few are old ones. I've edited them a bit, but they were written quite a while ago, when I had a writing studio.
Thanks for reading, Owl and Grif.
Today was a very yucky day, so it feels good to check in and read such nice words.
This poem relentlessly captures a snapshot in time, and we all know that snapshots have lives of their own.
Mal, I think her soul is.... hmmm... fair to middlin'. Right there in the middle ground somewhere. And yes, it was just a moment, but it sticks out in my mind. When I remember the person, I remember this first.
*looking inwardly at my own wondering...*
xo