I’ve often wondered if, over time, I’ve kissed every square inch of your body. It troubles me to think that there might be even the smallest portion of you my lips have not honored. I imagine you giving off a steady telltale glow, a sapphirine iridescence, anyplace my mouth has come in contact with you, making it easier to isolate and identify those minute segments that have suffered from my unintended neglect. There: an unlit spot the size of an eleven-point lowercase “o” between the third and fourth toes of your left foot! Hungrily, gratefully, I lift your lustrous ankle.
Goodnight, Taj Mahal by Andre Peltier
Deep below earth, clay and sand, deep below roots and aquifers, it lies in wait. Like that silent coyote stalking her white-tailed deer through the brush, it waits patiently and
April 30, 2023
