PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after J. V. Cunningham's poem, "Montana Fifty Years Ago"]

Sun-bronzed, shirtless, shoelless, you stepped into

their yard, out of the patch of pine trees and

the sole dirth path through them.  Some gray dust clung

to your dark socks, not quite concealed by your

faded jeans' boot flares.  Bare from the waist up

(a shock to some old biddies' peeping eyes),

your skin was deeply tan ("Part Cherokee,"

you said once)---and the color more pronounced

around your areolae.  Long, dark hair

fell to your shoulders in cascades of curls.

You knocked upon the back door, and that one

(for whom you had walked half way across town)

answered the door and felt the teasing catch

of breath---pleasantly surprised to see you there;

and, in a shaken voice, asked you, "Come in?"

You entered,  Likely, both of you thought of

pleasures yet unexplored but beckoning.

Starward

[jlc]