The first time she saw her new lover
in the nude, she pulled the covers
over her head and squealed and laughed
at his bravery in discarding his clothes
so eagerly, a playful puppy, his black socks
tossed like ribbons to the corners of the room –
in broad daylight.
And then slowly she lowered the sheet
and said, “I want to see you.”
It took courage to look in those early days.
And he couldn’t have possibly known
of her thank-you-thank-you-thank-you gratitude,
of her curiosity in his muscles, his pale skin, his freckles,
in his eager, happy face.
(“Freckles.” Bad Shoe 2010. Vol. 1, Issue 3, Pages 11. Print. JK Publishing: St. Louis.)