a poem by A.R. Martin
She’s got hair that reaches the ceiling and legs
that pierce through the ground.
She’s got the waist and hips I wish I had and
big flat feet that still look good in lint-covered slippers.
Her fingers are slim, nails straight, her elbows so
pointy and black that you just want to hold on
to the them, gripping them, as close to her as
you can get because she has this way of smiling
without moving her lips and shining her teeth,
a way of looking at you that makes you feel
like you’ve been holding on all along,
holding onto each other,
that when she walks past and says “Hi”
I say “Hi” back and wish I could be just like her, if only
there could be two of us and no one else.
Don’t forget to visit the GUA Shop:GUA SHOP