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.)


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