Curled on the wooden edge
of a damp and frothy hour,
white as a geisha, wrapped,
like a towel, around Wonder
drowsy with hunger I try
to add us up
by the random sum of his parts.
The knobbly knees,
the toes like crickets,
lax, irrelevant; the fingers
rolled, the eyelids
curled, the eyebrows
odd, imported, as if from
some blurred and ginger Manchu dynasty.
O timid Samurai,
those lips of softened, melted wax
that scholar's face
so delicate and
brutalised
does not explain
the way you ruffled
my shy idiocies, dug up
my trilobite passions,
knelt, and brought
hot tea to my heart --
stayed
to see I drank it.
First Prize, Benicia Love Poetry Contest, 2009
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Dragonfly
PoetryWelcome to the Dragonfly collection by Deborah Fruchey. Here, the stars are savage things, toes are like crickets, and a friend is a lost wedding ring. These 10 evocative poems come from a larger work, Armadillo, available in print at http://amzn.t...